


Parallel Pain

by Virginia_Blue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Hermione needs a hug, Other, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Self-Harm, Severus needs a hug, Werewolf Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:20:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 81,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virginia_Blue/pseuds/Virginia_Blue
Summary: Hermione Granger has spent her entire life being abused by her mother and ostracized by her classmates. When she gets turned into a werewolf and told she's a witch all in the course of one night, will she be able to handle it? Who will help her along the way?A Hermione Granger AU about recovery, friendship, and love.





	1. The Change

The day started like any other, perhaps even better than any other. Hermione Granger was going on a three day camping trip with Girlguides. Since becoming a guide just one year ago, Hermione had accumulated more merit badges than anyone else her age, and on this trip she was intent on earning her Advanced Camper badge.

But first she had to earn her freedom from her mother.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Jean Granger’s sickly sweet voice forced its way past Hermione’s thoughts.

“Yes mom, I’m sure.” Hermione heaved a sigh. She knew full well that her mother didn’t actually care if she had everything. Jean was only asking because there were other mothers around, and heaven forbid she lose her public image as a doting mother.

“Okay sweetie,” the term of endearment, to her credit, sounding only slightly forced. “Have fun on your little trip.”

Hermione plastered a smile on her face, knowing from experience that her mother would only allow her to keep doing things like this trip if it benefitted her image. Though when Jean glanced around at the other mothers and then took half a step forward as though to hug Hermione, Hermione turned and walked away without another word. She may pay for that later, but she wasn’t about to fake hugs. Smiles were hard enough.

So Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and walked toward the other girls. Who continued in their conversation as though Hermione didn’t even exist. For a moment Hermione wondered if this trip was even a good idea, but then she remembered the escape from her mother and the Advanced Camper badge waiting for her and decided it was a great idea. Besides, she brought a new book she wanted to read. And who needs social interaction when you have books?

Later that afternoon, just as the sun was setting, Hermione’s thoughts strayed again to that book and seriously debated retrieving it from her tent. She had spent the day demonstrating skills needed for the Advanced Camper badge, which she knew she did brilliantly at, but now she was expected to sit around the fire with the other girls. And talk, or braid hair, or whatever it is that primary aged girls did. Hermione actually wasn’t sure.

Sitting alone on her log, Hermione looked to her right and saw a large group of other girls crowded onto one log. Hermione didn’t say anything until Sydney slid off of the overcrowded log and landed on the ground with a thump.

“This is ridiculous” Hermione muttered to herself, “I’m not a leper.”

“Sydney, there’s room over here if you want an actual seat.”

Hermione realized her mistake the moment she opened her mouth, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming. Sydney was easily the meanest girl in her group, and while Hermione worked very hard to fly under the radar and avoid attracting Sydney’s notice, directly addressing her tore all of that work to shreds.

At first Sydney merely looked shocked that Hermione had dared to speak to her and her mouth opened and shut once without saying anything. She quickly recovered though, and the cruel, mirthless laugh that escaped from her lips did nothing to ease Hermione’s anxiety.

“And sit with _you_?” Sydney’s friends joined in her laughter, whispering to each other and shooting Hermione nasty looks.

“I would rather go sit in that fire,” Sydney pointed to the raging fire a couple of meters from them, “than sit with a bushy haired, buck toothed, bookworm loser like you.”

The other girls laughed louder, and Hermione’s eyes started to fill up with tears. Silently struggling not to cry, Hermione felt frozen in place.

“Why don’t you go put your head in one of your books? At least they don’t know how weird you are.”

That statement seemed to serve as an unsticking agent for Hermione and she suddenly found herself able to stand up. Unfortunately it also unfroze her tear ducts, and hot tears started streaming down her face.

“Oh no, is the little weirdo crying?” Sydney’s mocking voice sounded as Hermione furiously swiped at her cheeks.

Using her new ability to move, Hermione turned away from the fire and made a beeline for the trees. As the fire receded behind her, Hermione’s only thought was putting as much distance between her and the laughter as she could.

So she ran. With her vision blurred from tears and the sounds of the other girls’ laughter playing on a loop in her mind, she blindly ran through the woods. She didn’t know how long she ran or how far she went, but she eventually slid down with her back against a tree and continued crying with her head between her knees.

After several minutes of heavy sobbing, the thin clouds in the sky suddenly parted, and the resulting brightness was enough to startle Hermione out of her crying. Sniffling now, Hermione took in her surroundings.

By the light of the full moon Hermione could see a few meters in either direction, and all she saw were trees, trees, and more trees. The path was nowhere in sight. With a feeling of impending doom, Hermione hypothesized that in her emotional state she had wandered off the path.

Heart sinking, Hermione realized she had absolutely no idea where she was.

And to top it all off, she was pretty sure she heard twigs breaking to her right. Twigs breaking under the feet of something very large.

Slowly climbing to her feet and turning her head toward the sound, she waited with bated breath for whatever it was to make itself known. She had read all the survival books and knew the steps to take for how to increase her chances of survival against most large animals across the Isle of Britain, so she tried to take solace in those facts. She recited the steps to take for various animal encounters in her mind and tried to calm herself. Books wouldn’t let her down…right?

But as green eyes intelligently peered back at her from the leaves, and a huge lumbering _thing_ stepped into the light of the full moon, Hermione knew that none of her books mentioned this, and that no knowledge she had prepared her for the horror she was faced with.

The creature let out a joyous howl, and Hermione let out a terrified scream. Their sounds mixed together, rising into the clear night air like a horrible symphony.

The last thing she remembered was pain emanating from around her abdomen, spreading like fire through her entire body.

And then everything went black.


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is introduced to the magical world.

“How is she?”

Over the past several minutes garbled sounds had begun to poke at the edges of Hermione’s consciousness, but these three words spoken by an unknown man were the first to actually penetrate the fog.

“Silver and dittany were applied early and successfully, so she will live. But you know as well as I do, Albus, that the transformation is inevitable.” A woman’s voice this time.

Transformation? Silver and dittany? Hermione’s mind tried to shake the last of its fog, but the strange things she was hearing weren’t exactly helping to clear her confusion.

She shifted, trying to open her eyes.

“Hermione, dear, can you hear me?” The woman’s voice cut through the remainder of Hermione’s sleepy haze, and Hermione managed to finally open her eyes fully. She was met with the sight of a woman standing at the side of her bed. The woman had razor thin lips, the tightest bun Hermione had ever seen, and glasses perched mid-way up her nose. All in all, the woman appeared to have the potential to be quite severe, but at the moment she looked as nice and caring as any woman Hermione had ever seen.

Hermione nodded, not quite trusting her voice to speak. She glanced around her and saw that she was in what appeared to be a hospital room. Why was she in a hospital?

What was even stranger than her location, however, was the man who stood in the corner of the room. Hermione had never seen quite so strange a man in her life, and she really didn’t know what to make of him. The man was wearing floor length periwinkle robes adorned with bright gold stars. Mentally checking the date, Hermione remembered that it was still several months until Halloween, which meant that this man must normally wear such outrageous things. Moving on from his robe, Hermione took in his hair. Both hair and beard were a bright silver color that almost appeared to be glowing, and his beard was long enough to tuck into his belt. Thinking of how appalled her mother was at the unruliness of Hermione’s own hair, Hermione had to suppress a chuckle at how she would react to this man’s hair. It was at that moment, with the realization that her mother would hate this man, that Hermione decided she quite liked him.

The final thing Hermione took in were his eyes. Startlingly blue, their depth and compassion took Hermione back for a moment. Never had anyone looked at Hermione with as much care as these two strangers were looking at her now. While this initially made Hermione feel warm and accepted, it then put her on edge. Why would two total strangers care about her so much?

Glancing around the rest of the room, Hermione saw that her first impression of a hospital room was slightly off. While this room was clean and spartan and certainly felt like a hospital, it lacked any of the equipment Hermione had come to associate with hospitals.

Suddenly, Hermione remembered something she had once read about hospice care and she got a sinking feeling. Was the reason the room had no equipment because she was so terminal all they could give her was comfort? Is that why these strangers looked at her with so much compassion—because they knew she was going to die?

Quickly, Hermione did a body scan. The only thing she noticed was a dull radiating ache from her right side, and when she went to pat it she felt bandages through her shirt. Strange, but the presence of a few bandages didn’t carry with it a sentence of death. So then why were these people treating her in such a way?

Looking up to ask that exact question, Hermione met the unknown woman’s bright green eyes and was immediately thrust back into her memory of the night before. A different set of eyes, their shade just a tad lighter than the woman at her bedside, looked out at Hermione from the trees. Then they moved toward her, and in the brilliant moonlight Hermione saw the huge creature the eyes belonged to. It was like a wolf, but unlike any wolf Hermione had ever read about—and in her pursuit of guiding badges she had read about them all.

As the thing kept moving toward her, she froze, trapped in its gaze. The green eyes were so human, so pained; they looked nothing like a wolf. As soon as the creature raised its head and loosed an ear splitting howl, Hermione unfroze and started to turn and run, releasing her own ear splitting scream as she moved. But before she could make it even two steps, she felt a searing pain in her right side. The pain was more intense than anything she had ever felt, and when she looked down and saw the creature’s massive jaws wrapped around her ribs, it was all too much and she let the darkness consume her.

Coming back to the present, Hermione jerked away from the woman and scooted up and back until her back slammed against the wall. She could practically feel the creature’s jaws around her, could hear its howl ringing in her ears. Her emotions overwhelmed her until tears started leaking from her eyes, and it was then that the woman reached out a hand to slowly touch her shoulder.

Hermione looked into the woman’s eyes again and tried to suppress her panic, reminding herself that it was the wrong green. Encouraged by Hermione’s lack of violent response, the woman pulled Hermione into her side and hugged her tightly, rubbing circles into her back.

“Shh, shh. It’s quite alright, dear. You’re alright.”

They stayed like that for several minutes until Hermione’s breathing had calmed and she relaxed into the woman’s embrace. It had been a long time since Hermione had felt a loving, almost motherly hug, so she relished in the moment. Finally, feeling safe and warm, she asked the question that scared her the most.

“What was that thing?”

The hand on her back faltered for a second as the woman looked at the man who was now seated in a chair next to bed. When he nodded, the hand resumed circling and the woman began to speak.

“It…he…was a werewolf, dear.”

Startled, Hermione looked up from where her head was leaning on the woman’s chest to see if she was joking. Realizing the woman was perfectly serious, Hermione said the only thing she could manage. “What?”

Hearing the man clear his throat, Hermione looked toward him. She wasn’t prepared for what he was about to say.

“I have several things to tell you Hermione, and I know much of it will seem fictional to you at first, but I must ask that you allow me to finish. Can you do that?”

Hermione nodded mutely.

The man smiled in a reassuring way. “Good. The first thing that you must know, Hermione, is that you are a witch.”

Opening her mouth to interject, perhaps to call out the lunacy of the man or inquire as to whether she had been placed in the mental ward, Hermione just as quickly shut it. She had promised to let him finish, and however insane he seemed, a promise is a promise.

“Witches and wizards have existed for just as long as those without magic, people who we refer to as muggles. Occasionally, a witch or wizard like yourself is born to muggle parents. When that happens, their name is recorded on the list of magical beings in Britain, and when July of their 11th year rolls around, Minerva” with that he gestured to the woman seated next to Hermione, “personally invites them to accept their place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. You would have received your acceptance to Hogwarts next month, but the encounter with the werewolf last night forced us to…up our timeline, if you will.

“Werewolves are very real, Hermione. Muggles have stories and legends, but we in the magical community know the truth. Werewolves are witches and wizards who have been infected with lycanthropy, which can only be transmitted through a bite from a werewolf on a full moon. You were bitten by a werewolf on a full moon, Hermione. You are now a werewolf yourself.”

Hermione curled up further into herself when he said that, but still did not speak.

“We will teach you everything you need to know about being a werewolf, and about being a witch. Transformations can be controlled through a potion called Wolfsbane, and many werewolves go on to live an ordinary life.”

Sighing, Albus rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

“I will not lie to or mislead you though, Hermione. Many in our community hold a deep rooted fear of and prejudice against werewolves. It won’t be an easy life, but I assure you we will do everything we can to ease it for you.

“Including offering you a place at Hogwarts. You will not be the first werewolf to attend Hogwarts, and if I have my way, no child will ever again be denied over something as controllable as lycanthropy.”

Minerva pulled Hermione tighter to her side and began speaking herself.

“What Albus says is true, Hermione. The entire staff of Hogwarts will be accepting and accommodating, and there you will learn everything you need to about how to control your magic.”

Sensing Hermione’s struggle to comprehend all of the information they were giving to her, Minerva added: “Of course, you don’t need to accept right away. Take your time. I brought you several books about Hogwarts and lycanthropy if you would like to do any of your own reading.”

Minerva took a wooden stick out of her pocket and Hermione watched in awe as she said “Accio books” and made the three books sitting on the table across the room zoom into her lap.

Sitting them on the bed next to Hermione, Minerva shifted far enough away to look into Hermione’s eyes. “We can give you the rest of the day if you’d like some time to process everything we’ve told you.”

Hermione merely nodded.

“Okay, dear. We won’t be far, and if you need us, or food, or anything, just ask for someone named Pippy. She’ll be able to help you. Also, while you are by no means confined to your rooms, try not to travel too far. This is a rather large hospital.”

Minerva and Albus glanced at each other, then at the still silent Hermione.

“I know this is a lot, Hermione, but believe me when I say that you will get through it and that you are not alone.” Albus smiled down at her.

Minerva stood up, pressed one quick kiss to the top of Hermione’s head and walked out of the door after Albus.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked down at the books Minerva left for her. “Hogwarts, A History,” “The History of Lycanthropy,” and “Werewolves Today” were laying on the bed where Minerva had dropped them. After she had summoned them. With her magic wand.

Hermione took another deep breath and picked up “The History of Lycanthropy” and opened the front cover. Books always made her feel better, so what better place to start than with a book?

\---

Several hours later, Hermione had read most of “The History of Lycanthropy” and bits and pieces of “Hogwarts, A History” and “Werewolves Today.” Her head swimming with new knowledge, she felt much more prepared for the future ahead of her.

Her stomach suddenly grumbled, and Hermione realized that it must be past lunch time.

“Who did Minerva say to ask?” Hermione mumbled to herself. “Piper? Pip? Pippy?”

As soon as Hermione said “Pippy,” there was a loud pop and a very strange creature appeared next to her bed. Looking somewhat like an overgrown bat, the creature looked at Hermione with huge eyes and asked “How can Pippy be of service, miss?”

After letting out a highly undignified squeak, Hermione managed to squeeze out “What are you?”

Pippy smiled and responded “I’m a house elf, miss. We serve one family or place, and I serve at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am here because you called, and I will get you anything you wish for.”

Hermione mentally added “house elf” to her research list but tried to carry on as normally as she was able. “I’m a bit hungry, is there anything for lunch?”

Pippy clapped her hands in a delighted way. “Of course, miss. Pippy will bring it right to you.”

Before she could even ask if Pippy needed help carrying anything, Pippy vanished with a bang and reappeared five seconds later holding a tray with two sandwiches, a bag of crisps, a biscuit, and a glass of water. “When the miss is done, she can just call again and Pippy will take away her tray.”

Hermione’s quiet “thank you” was drowned out by the loud pop as Pippy once again disappeared.

“Well that was certainly…interesting.”

\---

Another few hours passed by and Hermione had learned nearly everything of importance in the two books on lycanthropy, and had read several interesting things about Hogwarts. She decided she could use a break, and remembering what Minerva had said about not being confined to her room, she decided to go for a walk.

Standing up from the chair she had settled in, Hermione put on a pair of slippers that were next to her bed and walked out of the door.

She spent the next hour wandering around the hospital and saw many intriguing and terrifying things, though only one interaction made a lasting impression. As she was wandering the halls, she came across a middle aged woman who appeared to be lost.

“Excuse me, dear, could you tell me where Ward 3 is?” The woman placed her arm on Hermione’s and smiled at her sweetly.

Having actually just passed it in her wandering, Hermione told the woman exactly how to get there.

“Ooph, you’re a life saver sweetie.” The woman pulled her into a brief hug. “Say, what are you doing walking around out here all by yourself?”

“Oh, I’m just exploring. I came in last night and was feeling a bit restless cooped up in my room.”

The woman appeared to be genuinely concerned. “Oh, I’m so sorry. What happened to you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Feeling reassured by the woman’s kindness and concern, Hermione ignored the warning signs in “Werewolves Today” that seemed to advise not disclosing your werewolf status to strangers. So she told the truth. “I was camping and was attacked by a werewolf last night.”

The change that overcame the woman was nearly palpable. Her smile disappeared and she took a step away from Hermione. “Werewolf? Were you bitten?”

Beginning to regret saying anything, Hermione sighed. “Yes, I was.” Might as well see what the general reaction was going to be.

The woman took another step away from Hermione, stiffly said “Well thank you for the directions,” and walked speedily away from Hermione. In the opposite direction of Ward 3. For a brief moment Hermione considered calling after her and telling her she was going the wrong way, but remembering the pity and disgust in her eyes as she fled, Hermione decided against it.

\---

After finishing an early dinner, Hermione asked Pippy if she could get Albus and Minerva. Not even five minutes later, Albus and Minerva came strolling into her room.

Minerva hugged her briefly before taking out her wand and drawing up extra chairs for herself and Albus. “How are you feeling, dear?”

Hermione smiled. “Much better, actually. Thank you so much for the books, they were extremely helpful.” Turning toward Albus, Hermione kept speaking. “I do have a few questions though.”

Albus’s blue eyes seemed to twinkle even more as he replied, “I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “I reckon I know about as much about lycanthropy as I can from those books. What to expect each month, the feelings of the magical community about us,” her eyes hardened a bit when she said that, “everything. My main question about that is if I accept my place at Hogwarts, which I fully intend to do,” Hermione had decided almost immediately that she was not going to navigate this new world without learning as much as she could about it, “what accommodation will be made for me?”

“As I said before, you will not be the first student with lycanthropy to attend Hogwarts, so we will give you much the same, or more, accommodations as we have in the past. Our potions master will make you Wolfsbane each month and you will be led to a secure area to transform. Professors will be very understanding of any absences or missed work that occurs during the period around the full moon, and will allow you to make it up on your own time and come in for additional instruction should you feel it is necessary. Outside of the staff nobody will be told of your werewolf status, and the staff will, of course, keep it in the strictest confidence. All in all, Hermione, we will try to make your experience at Hogwarts as ordinary as we can.”

Nodding as she took that all in, Hermione addressed her other pressing concern. “What about money? Not only is Wolfsbane very expensive from what I’ve read, but I’m sure there are going to be school supplies and other things I need to attend Hogwarts. What will I do for that?”

“Wolfsbane will be provided to you for no charge, so don’t worry about that. As far as school supplies go, Minerva will go with you to explain all of this to your parents tomorrow. Gringotts, the magical bank in London, is able to exchange muggle money for magical money. With your parents accompanying you it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Hermione stiffened in her seat and didn’t quite meet Albus’s eyes as she said “Sure, not a problem.”

Not missing this reaction, Albus and Minerva exchanged a look. It was Minerva who asked “Hermione, is something wrong?”

Hermione scuffed her shoe across the floor and still didn’t meet their eyes. “It’s just…” she sighed and looked up to meet Minerva’s gaze. “I don’t really think my mother is going to want anything to do with me anymore. She didn’t like me as it was, but with me being a witch and a werewolf? It’s not likely that I’ll be allowed back in her house.”

Minerva looked confused. “Why would you think that Hermione? Does she mistreat you?” Minerva’s confusion was turning to suspicion, and her suspicion was turning to anger. If Hermione hadn’t looked back at the floor she would have seen Minerva live up to her full potential for severity as anger swept across her face.

“I mean, she doesn’t really hit me anymore because the school started asking questions and she was scared it made her look bad. She doesn’t like me though.”

“Hermione, I know this might be hard to talk about, but it’s important. You said she doesn’t hit you anymore, but she used to? What else is going on Hermione? Does she mistreat you in any other ways?”

Hermione sniffed. “She used to hit me when she got mad or did something wrong. She had me pretty young so she’s always telling me that I ruined her life. I used to go a couple of days at a time without food, but I figured out how to cook so I’m fine now. It’s really not a big deal.”

To say Minerva was angry was an understatement. She was furious. Livid. You could practically feel the magic rolling off of her as she struggled to keep it in check. Albus had a much better handle on his outward appearance, but his eyes had changed from twinkling to dangerous in a matter of seconds. Looking into his eyes at that moment, nobody could have doubted the extreme power behind them.

“Hermione,” Albus spoke up, his voice low and serious, “Minerva will go with you tomorrow to speak with your mother, and she won’t let her do anything to hurt you.” Minerva gave one stiff nod.

“If what you say is true, and I don’t doubt you for a moment, then we will make sure you are always safe, even if it means forcibly taking you from her. We will do anything and everything to ensure your comfort and safety. Do you understand?”

Wiping away the tears that had started to fall, Hermione smiled sadly and nodded. And, surprising herself, she meant it. For whatever reason, she trusted Albus and Minerva to help her.


	3. Jean Granger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva meets Jean Granger and learns a few things.

The next morning saw Hermione and Minerva standing at the end of the Grangers’ driveway in Hampstead. Outside it was perfect day; the sun was shining, the breeze was pleasantly blowing, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Inside Hermione’s mind, however, a cyclone was raging.

What Hermione told Minerva and Albus had been true—her mother hadn’t actually hit her in years. Sometimes, though, Hermione almost missed the times when she did. During Hermione’s early years, when her mother was in her late teens and early twenties, she received equal amounts of love and anger from her mother. Every time her mother got angry with her and blamed her for ruining her life, Hermione would get pushed or slapped or gripped a bit too tightly. After each of those incident though, her mother would apologize profusely and shower her with gifts and hugs. As much as Hermione hated her mother’s outbursts, she almost craved them because she knew what came next.

That all changed when Hermione was 8 and had to go to the school nurse for cutting her knee on the playground. While there, the nurse asked Hermione to take off her jumper so the nurse could check for any other scrapes. Hermione pulled it off before she could even think, which led to the nurse seeing the finger shaped bruises around her forearms that Hermione’s mother had left two days before. Seeing the nurse’s face, Hermione immediately knew what was coming. At 8 she was already well read, and she knew what her mother did to her was abuse.

So when the nurse started asking her questions about her home life, Hermione knew this was a way out. She knew that if she told the nurse everything going on she would be taken away and given a better home. For a brief moment Hermione was tempted to tell the nurse everything, but she didn’t.

Because she also knew that if she told the nurse the truth, she would never get those sweet moments with her mother. The moments of laughter and presents and hugs and kisses—the moments that she craved with all of her heart. So she said nothing.

An inquiry was launched, her mother made a very convincing argument for Hermione’s general clumsiness, and Hermione kept her mouth shut. During this whole period, her mother was very aware of the scrutiny on them, which oddly enough made it one of the best periods of Hermione’s life. Her mother took her to school, packed her lunch, signed her up for Girlguides, and did everything she could to play the role of a loving mother. After a few weeks though, the investigation stopped and everyone was convinced of her mother’s suitability to be a parent.

After that incident, Hermione was never again hit by her mother. She was never slapped, or shoved, or gripped too tightly. But she was also never hugged or kissed or given gifts. Her mother decided that pretending she didn’t have a daughter while she was home was the safest thing to do, and so she took to only acknowledging Hermione’s presence while they were in public. At home Hermione was treated like a distant roommate—she was responsible for her own laundry, cooking, and cleaning. On more than one occasion she was left home alone for an entire weekend. So she grew up. She turned to books, she learned everything she could in the Girlguides. Knowledge became her friend, and her mother became merely another presence in her house. The only interactions she had with her mom were at major school events, which her mother attended in order to maintain her image, and whenever Hermione needed a ride somewhere. She would often take the bus, but for major things she would ask her mother, who only agreed if it was somewhere public.

And so, standing in front of her house, Hermione’s emotions were running so high they were nearly drowning her. But this wasn’t like the time with the nurse. Back then she still believed her mother loved her; she still craved for her mother’s brief expressions of love. But now, after three years of living essentially independently, she knew better.

Turning to look up at Minerva, Hermione nodded her head. “Let’s do this.”

\---

“Minerva stop!”

Hermione shouted at Minerva, who was standing with her wand levelled at the centre of Jean Granger’s chest, a look of pure fury on her face.

Jean was frozen in fear, glancing rapidly between Hermione, Minerva, and the inexplicably threatening piece of wood pointing at her chest.

“Minerva, please. I don’t know what just happened, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. She’s not worth getting in trouble over.”

Hermione was telling the truth, at least the part about not knowing what just happened. They had walked into her house, sat down with Jean in the sitting area, and explained to her about the magical community and werewolves. The entire time Jean had remained composed and silent. When it appeared that Minerva was done speaking, Jean merely looked at Hermione and said “Leave. And don’t come back.”

Hermione nodded and began walking toward her room to pack the handful of things she wanted to bring with her. If she hadn’t turned and walked away she might have seen Minerva make very deliberate eye contact with Jean, and if she had done a bit more reading she might have known about the magic of Legilimency, but seeing as she did not, all she heard was a sharp gasp from her mother, and when she turned around she saw Minerva standing with her wand drawn.

Hermione didn’t know that Minerva saw every abusive act and thought in Jean’s mind. Hermione didn’t know that Minerva felt Jean’s utter contempt for her own child. Hermione also didn’t know how tempted Minerva was in that moment to cause Jean immeasurable pain.

So Hermione only told Minerva to stop, not knowing why she had even started in the first place.  
Breaking her gaze away from Jean’s, Minerva looked at Hermione. Sweet, smart Hermione who had endured far more than any child should have to, and who didn’t deserve to also endure watching Minerva curse her mother into oblivion. Minerva shakily sighed and lowered her wand.

“Go get anything you’re going to need and put it on your bed. I’ll pack it with magic in a moment.” Minerva’s voice brooked no argument.

Hermione glanced between Minerva and her mother, unsure if leaving the room was a good idea, but the seriousness in Minerva’s voice had her turning and walking away anyway.

While Hermione piled her books and clothes onto her bed, Minerva once again locked eyes with Jean.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, Jean.” Minerva’s green eyes flashed with anger. “The ONLY reason I am not making you feel so much pain your mind caves in on itself and you are never able to think a single coherent thought again is because Hermione is here. But don’t think for a second that I feel anything other than hatred for you. You are a disgusting, despicable person, and should never have been allowed to mother a child. Do you understand me?”

Jean’s eyes flickered to the wand in Minerva’s hand and nodded.

“I am taking Hermione with me, and she will never again set foot in this house.” Minerva took a step closer to Jean, causing her to crane her neck back to see Minerva’s face. “You will not try to find her, and you no longer have any claim on her. You can no longer beat her, or ignore her, or use her as a pawn to advance your own pathetic social image. Do you have anything to say about this?”

Remarkably, Jean managed to find her voice in the face of a fuming Minerva. “What will I tell people?”

Minerva’s wand hand began shaking from the force of her grip. “Worried about your public image, of course you are.” She shook her head in disgust. “Don’t worry Jean, someone will be by in the next few days to sort it all out. You’ll be daughter free in no time.”

Hermione chose that moment to walk back into the room. “It’s all on my bed.”

Minerva gave Jean one last glare before turning and following Hermione to her room.

Seeing the small pile of clothes and the not so small pile of books, Minerva smiled. She had a suspicion which house Hermione was going to end up in. With a few practiced waves of her wand, Minerva had conjured up a suitcase, packed the items, and made the bag light enough to easily carry. Grabbing Hermione’s hand, Minerva led them toward the front door. When they reached the sitting area they saw Jean sitting in the exact same position as she was when Minerva left the room.

Minerva paused, looking at Hermione and silently asking if she wanted to say anything. Hermione, knowing only that her mother had disowned her, turned to her mother and said simply “Goodbye.” Jean looked up at her, her face a mix of disgust and relief, the former in reference to Hermione, the latter in reference to the fact that Hermione would be gone for good.

Maybe Jean wanted to feel come control in the situation, or maybe she actually couldn’t think of anything else to say, but the last words Hermione heard from her mother were “Don’t even think about coming back.”

Walking back outside toward the point where Minerva would be apparating them to the gates of Hogwarts, Hermione looked up at the sky and was struck by its out of place perfection. You would think that on the day her mother disowned her it wouldn’t be such a perfect day. There should be rain falling or the wind should be whipping, or at the very least the sun should have the decency to hide behind the clouds, but it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And Hermione didn’t know how to feel about that.


	4. Hospital Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets settled at Hogwarts and takes her first trip to the Hospital Wing.

The next two weeks were a whirlwind for Hermione. She was living at Hogwarts in one of the spare rooms near the professor quarters, and she was slowly becoming acquainted with the confusing majesty that is Hogwarts castle.

While she spent a lot of time meeting with Albus or Minerva, the rest of her days were spent on her own. She made a promise to herself that she would wait to lose herself in the library until after she had two full weeks of castle familiarization under her belt. From extensive personal experience, she knew that if she surrounded herself by books nothing in the real world would register in her mind for a very long time. So, as much as it pained her, Hermione stayed out of the library until she was sure she knew her way around her new home. She explored the castle and the grounds from the moving staircases to the lake, and as expected, by the time two weeks were coming to a close she felt she had a good grasp on everything.

At least, a good grasp on everything outside of her mind. Inside of her mind, her thoughts were a mess. She oscillated between an angry inferno that wanted to destroy everything around her and a sharp knife aimed at her heart itching to plunge forward.

Hermione was happy she had people who cared about her, and was overjoyed at the prospect of learning magic, but still nothing felt right. She thought she could deal with her mother’s disgust and disownment. It sucked, and it hurt, but she had been living with that pain for such a long time it was now second nature to push it away. She thought she could deal with the disgust of the magical community toward werewolves. Again, it sucked, but she had been a social pariah for most of her school years and could also push that pain away pretty well by now. And besides, with the precautions Albus laid out for her she doubted anyone at school would even find out.

There was one thing Hermione had never had to lock away in her emotional box though, and that was the werewolf attack. Whenever her thoughts strayed in that direction—whenever she saw the bite scarred into her flesh or caught sight of the Forbidden Forest in her periphery—she thought about something else. Hermione may have only been 11, but she had been dealing with complex emotions for longer than anyone her age should have had to. She knew that if she allowed herself to dwell on the attack then she would lose her ability to contain all of her other emotions and everything would come rushing out at once.

She was having one of these internal battles one day while walking around the lake, and so she didn’t realize how close she was drifting toward the forest. Now, Hermione hadn’t received specific instructions not to go there, but something about the trees made her feel uneasy. She knew it had to do with her attack, but it was one of those things that if she thought about it too hard it would make her lose control. So she avoided the forest and didn’t think about it.

Until this particular afternoon when she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings and was suddenly only 100 meters from the tree line. For the past two weeks Hermione had been carefully practicing avoidance, but in that instant she was abruptly presented with everything she had been avoiding, and she very quickly spiraled out of control. What started as just a flashback of her attack led to her box of emotions smashing open, and every negative feeling she had locked away overwhelmed her.

Minerva found her less than ten minutes later curled up into a ball on the castle lawn, sobbing and shivering violently, but she was too far gone to respond or come out of her alarming state. Minerva conjured a stretcher, cast a hovering charm, and rushed Hermione across the grounds toward the front door, intent on getting to Poppy immediately. How Minerva knew where to find her, Hermione never knew, but she was grateful.

As the tall witch trotted across the lawn with a stretchered girl following beside her, neither was aware of the pair of black eyes looking out from over a hooked nose following their every movement.

Poppy had Minerva wait outside while she performed a brief but thorough exam on Hermione, during which the extent of her childhood malnutrition and abuse was made apparent. While there were several alarming past physical issues, Poppy determined that the present issue was a mental one. Poppy had been mediwitch at Hogwarts for a long time, and while she knew how to heal bones in an instant, healing minds was an entirely different matter. After getting Hermione to take a sleeping draught, Poppy retrieved Minerva and they both went to Poppy’s office.

Once inside, Poppy cast a silencing charm and sank into the chair across from Minerva.

“Minerva…” Poppy’s eyes were sad as they looked at her old friend.

“What’s the verdict, Poppy?”

“What happened today was what I can most aptly describe as a mental breakdown. At first I was going to attribute it to her sudden transformation, but after doing an exam I think it goes deeper than that.”

Minerva was growing more worried as Poppy spoke. “What do you mean, deeper than that?”

“Minerva, are you aware that Hermione was abused? Extensively and for many years, from what I can tell.”

Sighing, Minerva felt like punching herself. She had been speaking with Hermione every day and she seemed to be adjusting well, but after today Minerva knew she had just been faking it. Of course Hermione’s past was going to leave her with issues. Minerva felt like a fool for not noticing. Thinking that maybe Poppy could think of a way to help her help Hermione, Minerva started telling her friend everything she had learned about Hermione’s life.

She told Poppy about Jean’s years of abuse and neglect, and about the disgust and contempt she found in Jean’s mind. The longer she talked the angrier she got, so much so that she placed her wand on Poppy’s desk out of fear of accidentally lighting something on fire. By the end of her explanation, Minerva wasn’t the only one fuming.

Poppy had gotten up from her chair and was pacing her office, detailing the many very creative curses she wanted to lobby at Jean Granger. Minerva, while agreeing with her in every way, decided she might need to reign Poppy in just a bit. While Minerva was protective of all of her students, Poppy’s loyalty ran even deeper. She kept their strictest confidence and did her best day in and day out to ensure their safety. Any harm to her students was seen as a personal affront to her-- a slap in the face to her vow to do no harm.

It was this vow that Minerva appealed to in her quest to calm Poppy down.

“Poppy, believe me, I am as angry as you are. Remember your oath though. No matter how horrible Jean Granger is, you can’t actually harm her. That wouldn’t be helping anyone.”

“How can you say that Minerva?! After what Jean did to Hermione? After what she drove Hermione to do to herself? That woman deserves to rot in Azkaban, muggle or not!”

Having expressed the core of her anger, Poppy plopped back down in her seat, breathing heavily but trying to calm herself. Something she said made Minerva’s blood run cold though.

“Poppy, what do you mean—after what she drove Hermione to do to herself?”

Poppy looked up at Minerva in confusion. “You didn’t know?” Seeing Minerva’s blank face staring back at her, Poppy sighed and realized that now it was her turn to break bad news.

“Hermione has extensive scarring along her upper thighs and hips…” Poppy looked at Minerva. “Self-inflicted scarring.”

Minerva drew in a sharp gasp and spoke in horror, “No.”

“It’s not unheard of in children coming from her background, Minerva. It’s not even the first time I’ve seen it at Hogwarts, though it never gets any easier to digest.” Poppy trailed off sadly.

“Merlin. That poor dear.” Minerva glanced at the wall in the direction of Hermione, as though she could see through it. “Could you tell…could you tell how long she did it for?”

“I’d say it started maybe two years ago. There seem to be groups of scars spaced out by a few months each, so the activity likely accompanied breakdowns and wasn’t every day. But Minerva…the last grouping was recent.”

“How recent, Poppy?”

Poppy hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “The best I can put it is about three weeks ago.”

Minerva’s hand clutched her chest when she heard that. “Three weeks? That was only days before we found her.”

Poppy said nothing but reached across and grabbed Minerva’s other hand. After sitting silently for a few moments, Minerva steeled herself for action.

“How do we help her?”

Expecting this question, Poppy shook her head a bit as she launched into an answer. “The best answer to that is that I don’t know for sure. For all of our miraculous medical accomplishments, there is no potion or spell that can fix a mind in pain. Every person is different.”

“I don’t accept that answer, Poppy. There has to be _something_ we can do for her.”

“All I know to do is to be there for her. Treat her like a normal person, not like a freak or an outsider, and not like a charity case or something to pity. Give her positive adult relationships. Teach her that there are adults who will help her; that we’re not all out to hurt her. I think the best thing we can give her right now is stability, and if she decides to open up to anyone we should encourage that relationship.” Poppy sighed. “Broken bones are so much easier.”

“This isn’t going to be an easy year for her, is it?” Minerva’s eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

“No. I’m afraid it’s not.”

Waking up in the hospital wing to muffled voices was like a strange flashback for Hermione.

When she heard Albus’s voice ask “How is she?” she wondered if she was in an episode of that America show “The Twilight Zone.”

Hermione shifted in the bed, slowly opening her eyes.

Minerva chuckled lightly. “Awake, it would seem.”

“What happened?” Hermione croaked out, her throat sore and dry.

Handing Hermione a glass of water, Minerva took a moment to think about how to word her answer.

“You had a bit of an episode, Hermione. I found you on the lawn near the forest and brought you here.”

Hermione slowly lowered the water from her mouth. Despite Minerva’s careful wording, she knew what happened. She had a breakdown.

“I’m sorry.” Hermione refused to look at Minerva or Albus, thinking that they must be disgusted with her. She was certainly disgusted with herself. This was the first time since her first ever breakdown that she hadn’t been able to keep it together until she got somewhere quiet and private. And to top it all off, she had broken down less than a month ago. Thinking that they wouldn’t want to deal with her issues, Hermione mumbled out “I can leave if you want.”

Albus spoke before Minerva could. “Leave? Hermione, when I offered you a place at Hogwarts there were no strings attached. You are a witch, and therefore you have a place at this school. You will always have a place at this school.”

Hermione looked up at him, confused. “But…what about my breakdowns? I didn’t think you’d want to deal with me.” She sniffed. “I’m broken.”

Not for the first or last time, Minerva regretted not cursing Jean Granger into oblivion. “Hermione, you’re not broken. No matter what anyone has told you, you aren’t broken and you never were. You’ve been through more than anyone your age should have to, and that has left you with scars that run deep.”

Minerva noticed the way Hermione flinched and shifted her hand to her hip when Minerva said “scars.”

“As always, Minerva is absolutely right. We will do everything we can to help you, and no matter what you will be allowed to stay at Hogwarts. Hogwarts will be your home for as long as you want it to be, Hermione.” Albus walked to Hermione’s bed and took her hand in his. “And besides, there are many people at Hogwarts, both student and staff, that experience very similar issues. If I were to kick out everyone with mental health struggles then Hogwarts would find itself short several professors, students, and one quite remarkable headmaster.” Albus winked at Hermione when he said that, and Hermione managed a small smile.

“There is something we need to address though. About you and your coping mechanisms.” Hermione hung her head again as Minerva spoke.

“When Poppy was examining you yesterday she found quite a bit of scarring, Hermione. Some scars were quite old, but some were…rather new. Now, while I do strongly encourage you to confide in someone about this, I’m not going to force you to.” Albus squeezed Hermione’s hand as Minerva spoke, silently trying to offer her support.

“All I’m going to ask you to do is to tell someone if you ever feel the need to hurt yourself. You can come to me or Albus of course, but if you don’t feel comfortable with that you can come see Poppy and ask her not to tell us. If she feels you are in serious danger she will contact us, but otherwise she will keep anything you say in the strictest confidence. Can you try to do that, Hermione?”

Still not meeting either of their gazes, Hermione nodded. Part of her doubted she could ever confide in anyone, but another part of her desperately wanted to try. 

But she would start another time. Right now she was going to ignore reality for as long as possible by doing what she always did at times like this.

Hermione Granger was going to the library.


	5. Diagon Alley Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva takes Hermione to Diagon Alley to start school shopping.

The next week found Hermione in the library all day every day. She read several books a day about whatever caught her interest—and there were no shortage of things that met that criteria.

She learned about quidditch, merpeople, house elves, the sorting hat, apparation, Unforgivable Curses, dragons, and a great many other things. She came up for air to eat meals, and met with Minerva and Albus a couple of times, but when not engaged with one of those essentials she had her head in a book.

After a week had passed Hermione nearly panicked upon realizing that she didn’t know what she was going to be doing during the academic term. Obviously she would be going to class, but what if there was something she was supposed to do that she knew nothing about? Would she be expected to know how to mount a broomstick? Or pot a mandrake? Or brew a potion? She had read references to so many fields of magic, but she had absolutely no idea if she was looking at the wrong things. She didn’t even have a wand!

It was these concerns that Hermione voiced to Albus during their meeting on that Friday afternoon. Albus chuckled to himself as he listened to Hermione fret about her coursework when she probably had already consumed half of the library, and agreed with Minerva’s suspicion about which house this girl would end up in.

Nevertheless, he recognized how serious her worry was and did what he could to appease her. “Hermione, I think you’ll find that no professor expects anyone to have any prior knowledge or skill before the first day of term. There are plenty of students coming from muggle backgrounds, like yourself, who have no magical knowledge prior to reporting on September 1st.

“However, if you’d like to feel a bit more prepared I believe I have a solution. Tomorrow morning Minerva can escort you to Diagon Alley to purchase your school supplies—which, yes, include a wand and all of your textbooks. This way you can see the exact material you’ll be learning and can maybe master a few basic spells. Supervised, of course.”

Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat she was so excited.

“How does that sound?”

Albus let out a breath as Hermione slammed into him for a brief hug. Pulling away, she beamed up at him. “That sounds amazing!”

\---

Deciding to introduce Hermione to as many forms of magical transportation as possible, Saturday morning found Minerva standing in front of her office fireplace holding a pot of floo powder.

“What you do is very simple, dear. First you take a pinch of this powder and toss it into the flames, which will turn green and will not hurt you. Then you will step forward into the flames and very clearly say your destination—which in this case is Diagon Alley.”

Having read a few things that mentioned travelling via the Floo Network, Hermione was vaguely familiar with the concept and nodded along to Minerva’s explanation.

“Be careful to take a big breath before stepping into the fire though. If you try to take a breath inside you’re more likely to catch a mouth full of ash and not speak clearly.”

Hermione looked a bit worried and asked “What happens if I don’t speak clearly?”

“You’ll most likely exit at the wrong fireplace, which could put you somewhere innocuous like a grandmother’s living room, or somewhere a bit more unsavory like Knockturn Alley.” Minerva’s nose crinkled slightly as she mentioned Knockturn Alley, as though she were smelling something sour.

Deciding to ask about Knockturn Alley later, after she had conquered the most immediate task of travelling by floo, Hermione merely gulped and nodded. “Can you go first so I can watch?”

“Of course. Do exactly as I do though, and try not to delay. If I have to wait longer than a minute I’m sending the search party out for you.” Minerva said this last line with an air of humour, but it didn’t really do anything to calm Hermione’s nerves.

Minerva took a pinch of powder, placed the pot on the mantle, and walked right up to the fire. She tossed the powder into the flames and Hermione watched in awe as they turned green and rose higher. Minerva then stepped confidently into the green flames, said in a loud voice “Diagon Alley” and disappeared with a woosh.

Starting her sixty second countdown, Hermione reached up and retrieved a handful of floo powder from the pot. She walked up to the fire and stared at it, feeling the heat radiating toward her. Thirty seconds left.

Steeling her nerves, Hermione threw the powder, took a deep breath, and stepped into the flames. And, due to Minerva’s very clear instructions, she clearly spoke “Diagon Alley.”

Feeling like she was being squeezed and hurtled along a narrow passage, Hermione felt relieved when she naturally stopped and saw Minerva waiting for her. Jumping out of the fireplace, as though afraid it would try sucking her back in if she stayed for too long, she walked over to Minerva.

Minerva beamed at her, happy to see that there were no mishaps with the selected method of travel.

“Alright. Our first stop is Gringotts, so follow me and try not to wander off.”

Hermione thought that was an odd thing to say—until she stepped out after Minerva onto the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley and immediately saw about a million things she wanted to wander off and look at.

To start with, there were a great many people walking about, and Hermione (who still wasn’t fully used to magical fashion) found the variety of robes and hats quite entertaining. She was certain she even saw someone wearing a great big hat with a stuffed vulture on top—something that made her do a double take.

Once the initial assessment of the magical nature of the populace was complete, Hermione started to take in all of the shops that lined the busy thoroughfare. She saw fireworks going off in Gambol and Japes, heard hooting from Eeylops Owl Emporium, and saw a group of kids looking at a broomstick through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. While all of the shops looked fantastically new and exciting, one of them immediately stuck out at her: Flourish and Botts.

As Hermione stopped following Minerva and involuntarily took a few steps closer to Flourish and Botts as though in a trance, Minerva came very close to rolling her eyes. As that wouldn’t be proper, however, she instead chuckled lightly and grabbed Hermione’s hand.

Being pulled along by Minerva finally snapped Hermione out of her altered state of mind, and she blushed when she realized that Minerva’s warning to not wander off had indeed applied to her. Still, though, being surrounded by the wonderment of Diagon Alley made her embarrassment pass by quickly.

“This is incredible!” Hermione exclaimed.

Realizing that Hermione was once again back on Earth, Minerva moved to release her hand. Whether because she didn’t realize Minerva’s intent, or because she needed something grounding in all of the chaos of Diagon Alley, Minerva didn’t know, but either way Hermione clung tight to her hand.

Accepting Hermione’s hand holding, Minerva looked down at Hermione and gave her a small smile. “Yes, dear. It really is.”

Minerva was happy to see the pure joy of a child on Hermione’s face. It was a pleasant change from her drawn expression over the past few weeks.

They walked in silence for another minute before Gringotts came into sight. “And that, love, is Gringotts.”

Hermione craned her neck back to try and take it all in. Gringotts was…imposing, to put it lightly. Made of snowy white marble, it towered several stories over all of the other shops surrounding it.

As Hermione and Minerva walked up the equally white stairs toward a set of burnished bronze doors. Next to this door stood a creature that Hermione was able to identify right away, thanks to her week in the library. A goblin stood by the right side of the door in a scarlet and gold uniform, somehow looking intimidating despite his small stature.

For a moment Hermione thought she was projecting her reading about the gruesome Goblin Rebellions onto this Gringotts goblin, but once she reached the inner set of doors she knew that her impression was correct. The goblins of Gringotts were not to be trifled with.

There on the silver inner doors, in bold script, were engraved the words:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there. 

Despite having no intentions of ever stealing from Gringotts, Hermione’s heart beat a little faster upon reading those words. Noticing Hermione’s nervousness, Minerva chimed in.

“Don’t worry, dear. They only hurt those who try to steal, and only fools would try and steal from a Gringotts vault. Seeing as how you are not a fool, it stands to reason that they will not hurt you.”

Logically, of course, Hermione already knew that. Still, hearing Minerva trying to reassure her warmed her heart.

Once inside Gringotts they were met with a great domed room lined with doors, which Hermione would later learn led to various pathways to the underground vaults. Walking past long counters where hundreds of goblins sat, engaged in various clerical activities, Minerva led Hermione to a counter toward the back of the room.

Hermione gazed up at the goblin seated on a raised dais behind a name placard that read “Bogrod,” and decided that she really did not ever want to cross a goblin. Even when the goblins looked elderly and relatively kind, like Bogrod, there was an air of power and danger that emanated from them.

Bogrod spoke first. “State your business.”

Efficient and to the point, Minerva responded in kind. “I would like to withdraw twenty galleons from Hogwarts funds for disadvantaged children, and make a visit to my personal vault.”

Nodding sharply, Bogrod asked “And I presume you have authorization for use of Hogwarts funds?”

Minerva pulled a letter from inside her robe and handed it up to Bogrod. “Here is the authorization form, signed by Headmaster Dumbledore and myself, Deputy Headmistress.”

Hermione listened to this exchange with fascination. She was in a magical bank run by goblins, and yet Minerva and Bogrod spoke with the same boring professionalism that any muggle banker and customer would have. Maybe the two worlds weren’t so different after all.

Realizing she had drifted off in thought, Hermione brought herself back to the present in time to see Bogrod handing Minerva a small sack that Hermione assumed held her twenty galleon starter fund. Fully expecting Minerva to slip it into her pocket, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when Minerva handed her the sack.

“Here, you should carry this, dear.” Happy at being trusted with something, Hermione beamed and put the sack very carefully in her pocket.

“Now,” said Bogrod, “if you would follow me, I will lead you to the McGonagall vault.”

Hermione and Minerva followed Bogrod as he clambered off of his platform and led the way toward a nearby door set into the outer wall. Walking through the door Hermione didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t what she was met with.

Walking through the door was like walking through a portal to another world. Where the main hall was spacious and well lit, behind the door was dim and cramped. The oddest thing to Hermione, though, was the small cart sitting on railroad tracks. Not wanting to seem unknowledgeable or frightened, Hermione followed Minerva into the cart without hesitation.

Minerva must have picked up on something though, because she took pity on Hermione and started explaining. “All of the vaults in Gringotts are underground, with the older and richer vaults being the farthest down. Nobody but the goblins truly know how far it all extends or how to navigate it, which is another reason only a fool would attempt a heist from Gringotts.”

Bogrod, from his place behind the cart making preparations, grunted in agreement.

“Running through the underground vaults is a vast network of tracks, which is the only way anyone is able to access their vault. Only the Gringotts goblins can operate the carts though.”

Feeling relieved that all she was faced with was a simple cart ride, Hermione found herself starting to relax. Of course, that only lasted until Minerva continued her explanation.

“The cart ride is incredibly fast and makes a lot of sharp turns and drops. I think the best muggle equivalent is what you call a rollercoaster. Now, many on their first time feel frightened and may even get sick. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and as you get older it gets easier. I daresay I barely even bat an eye now.”

Minerva chuckled at her jibe at her own age, and Hermione tried to laugh along with her but only managed half of a smile. Before she could think about it too much more, though, Bogrod started pushing them down the track. Frantically looking around for something to hold onto, Hermione jumped when she felt Minerva’s hand on her arm.

“You won’t fall out.” As they gained speed down the track, Minerva’s voice was blown away by the wind, so Hermione saw rather than heard her mouth “Magic.”

While this logically reassured Hermione, it did nothing for the irrational part of her screaming “Danger!” in the back of her mind. Feeling like a muggle clicking slowly up the first roller coaster incline with a lap bar that just unlocked, Hermione was freaking out. Looking over Minerva’s shoulder, Hermione’s heart started working overtime when she saw a huge drop.

Deciding that she really didn’t want to see any more, Hermione screwed her eyes tightly shut and balled her fists on top of her thighs. Minerva leaned forward to briefly pat her on the leg before leaning back and enjoying the ride. Minerva had been just like Hermione the first time she visited a Gringotts vault, but now she actually quite enjoyed the entire event.

The cart sped up as they went deeper and deeper under the city. It made several dramatic course changes and dips, but before too long the cart made an abrupt stop outside of Minerva’s vault. Too scared to open her eyes in case they took off again, Hermione waited until she felt Minerva’s hand on her shoulder to look up.

Minerva tried to hide her laugh at Hermione’s state, but found it incredibly hard. Thinking it safer not to use her voice just yet, Minerva stepped out of the cart and gestured for Hermione to follow her onto the platform.

Hermione rose on shaky legs and tentatively stepped toward the cart door, still mildly afraid it would start rolling forward. When she reached the door she very quickly leapt onto the platform and relished the feeling of a solid floor.

Finding her voice again, Minerva walked over to Hermione and put an arm around her shoulder, saying “You actually did quite well for your first time. After my first ride I stood over there and puked for a good five minutes.” Minerva gestured to the right side of the platform.

Feeling a bit better, Hermione managed to let out a genuine laugh.

“Your key?” Bogrod asked from his position next to the vault door.

Minerva reached into her robes and fished out a small silver key, then handed it to Bogrod who slipped it into a lock and ran his finger down the door. Hermione heard a series of inner locks being undone, and watched in fascination as the door opened to reveal the contents of the vault.

Hermione had no idea as to whether the gold contained within Minerva’s vault was considered a large sum in the magical world, but it certainly looked impressive. Walking in behind Minerva, Hermione watched as Minerva pulled out a small bag and put a few large handfuls of gold into it.

Taking the opportunity to look around the vault, Hermione saw that it contained more than just the small mountain of gold in its center. There were several pieces of furniture, paintings, and quite a few antique clothing items in what Hermione assumed was the McGonagall clan tartan.

All in all, Hermione was impressed by the vault. Knowing it might be considered bad manners, but her curiosity getting the best of her anyway, Hermione asked “Are you considered wealthy in the magical world?”

Raising an eyebrow, Minerva appeared momentarily shocked at having been so directly asked such a question, but decided to answer it anyway. “I am certainly well to do, but I am by no means within the upper crust of magical society. You would probably call me upper middle class in muggle economic terms.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the thought of someone with a bigger vault than this, and decided to just roll with her line of questioning. “So the rich people’s vaults are bigger? Who are the rich families? How much further down are their vaults?” Hermione thanked her lucky stars that Minerva wasn’t rich—she couldn’t imagine having to ride that cart for any longer.

Hermione’s curiosity was too pure and childlike for Minerva to leave her questions unanswered, so she launched into a brief explanation. “I can’t say with any certainty who the wealthiest families currently are, but some of the oldest and historically wealthy families are the pureblood lines like the Blacks, Malfoys, and Lestranges. I have never stepped foot in one of those vaults, but yes, I imagine they are much larger. Oh, and what was your last question? How much further down are they? Again, I haven’t been so I cannot speak with any authority on the matter, but there are rumours that the old pureblood vaults are extremely far down and that they’re protected by magical creatures like dragons.”

“Woah.”

“Woah indeed. Now come along, I think I have everything I need.”

Hermione groaned as she realized that Minerva was walking back to the cart.

“Yes, yes, get in. It’s really not that bad, we’ll be back at the surface in no time.”

Clambering into the cart, Hermione closed her eyes again as they started to move. While this was definitely an educational experience, Hermione didn’t think she was going to be trying to repeat it any time soon.

Once they were back on stationary land and Hermione’s stomach had stopped doing somersaults, the two witches and the goblin made their way back into the main hall. This time, coming from the dimly lit stone tunnel and stepping into the well lit marble hall, Hermione felt like she was travelling into the future.

Minerva thanked Bogrod and led Hermione back out of the doors they came in. As they passed through the doors, Hermione glanced again at the engraved warning. After learning what Gringotts was actually like, Hermione found she quite agreed with Minerva’s earlier statement about fools.


	6. Diagon Alley Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about Severus, and Hermione has a bit of a moment in Ollivander's.

Stepping out into Diagon Alley with a pocket full of gold just clamoring to be spent, though, all negative thoughts rapidly swept from Hermione’s mind. “Where to first?” Hermione asked as she turned to Minerva in excitement.

“Well, let’s consult the list.”

Minerva, acting as if she didn’t write the entire list herself, pulled out a piece of parchment and unfurled it. On the parchment, Hermione read:

Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)  
One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear  
One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)  
Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times.

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawk  
 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot  
 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling  
 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch  
 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore  
 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger  
 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander  
 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

1 Wand  
1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set of glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat, or a Toad.

Once Hermione had a chance to read over the list, Minerva said “I think we should start at a second hand robes shop and get your uniform items. After that we can get your cauldron, phials, telescope, and scales. Would you rather finish the day with getting your wand or with getting your books?”

Hermione almost said wand because she wanted to get her books sooner, but she forced herself to consider the question before she answered. Realizing that she would blow all of her time and money in the book store, Hermione concluded that securing her wand and other responsibilities before book shopping was probably a good idea. So she answered “Books,” and Minerva smiled, knowing her exact reasoning.

Hermione managed to find nearly everything second hand, wanting to save as much as she could to buy an extra book or two. Still, despite being second hand, she lucked out in that none of it looked too shoddy or worn down.

Surprising Minerva, Hermione spent nearly an hour in the apothecary, despite only needing to buy scales from there. She was fascinated by all of the ingredients and kept asking the shopkeeper questions about what they were used for. Seeing Hermione’s enthusiasm for potions made Minerva think about Hermione’s breakdown the week previous and how a certain potions master was the one to inform Minerva of Hermione’s status and location.

Severus had been at Hogwarts that day to organize some new potions stores, and he wasn’t expecting to see any students in the middle of summer vacation. Which is why, when he saw a young girl walking around the lake from his window, he was extremely confused and more than a bit curious.

He stood there for a solid ten minutes watching this unknown girl walk, and was about to chide himself for his foolish musings when the girl suddenly stopped and stared at the forest. Severus quickly scanned the tree line looking for a threat, but of course he saw nothing, not realizing that the threat was internal.

When the girl dropped onto the ground and started shaking, Severus was even more alarmed. Though he couldn’t hear her from his window, her body language made it appear that she was screaming and sobbing.

Remembering a young, hook nosed boy who spent more than one afternoon during his time at Hogwarts in a similar position, Severus tore himself away from the window. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t help, he reminded himself. What he could do to help was report to the Headmaster or Deputy Headmistress the status of the girl so they could take care of the situation.

Nodding, Severus set off at a brisk pace toward the Headmaster’s office, his black cloak billowing behind him, as dramatic as it was unpractical in the summer heat. He was walking for less than a minute when he encountered Minerva, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her.

“Severus, I didn’t know you were coming in today.” Minerva said pleasantly by way of greeting.

“No time. Minerva, there is a young girl who I just witnessed collapse on the lawn between the forest and the lake. I saw no external threat, and I suspect a mental episode.”

Gasping, Minerva whispered “Hermione.” Delaying no time, Minerva told Severus to alert Poppy and she rushed out to where Severus said he saw Hermione.

After Severus alerted Poppy of the imminent arrival, he stood by a different window and watched as Minerva loaded the girl onto a stretcher and began heading toward the castle. When they got close enough Severus was able to see more of the girl.

She was fairly average in appearance, with bushy brown hair and a muggle sweater, but what struck him was her face. He had only ever seen that kind of pain in one place—the mirror.

And that thought disturbed him enough that he returned to his potions stores and tried to push away the memories before they overtook him.

Minerva didn’t know Severus’s entire backstory, but she knew enough to know that he hadn’t had an easy childhood. Or adulthood, for that matter. She knew that when Lily was killed on the night of Lord Voldemort’s demise he had lost a major part of himself, and when her son Harry was killed not even an hour later by the crazed Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange it was as though he lost all hope. Minerva understood his point of view, sometimes she even felt it creeping in at the edges of her thoughts. What good was a world where a woman could sacrifice herself to save a son that would be murdered in an hour regardless?

Minerva shifted her focus back to Hermione, who was engaged in a conversation with a slightly exasperated shopkeeper about who first discovered the purpose of a bezoar. Seeing her excited face, Minerva hoped against hope that Hermione and Severus would both find peace one day.

But for now, Hermione had a wand to purchase.

“Hermione, dear, we need to get going if we’re going to get everything on your list.” Minerva spoke softly but firmly, knowing Hermione needed coaxing if she was ever going to leave the apothecary.

Hermione pouted up at Minerva. “Oh come on, just a few more minutes?”

Noticing with some amusement how the shopkeeper’s eyes widened in fear at the thought of Hermione staying even longer, Minerva decided not to torture him any longer. “No dear, we really must be going. Besides,” Minerva added as Hermione’s pout deepened, “don’t you want to get your wand?”

Hermione’s pout disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and her disappointment at leaving the apothecary was nearly forgotten at the prospect of having her own magic wand. “My wand? Yeah!”

Minerva and Hermione walked toward Ollivander’s as Hermione told Minerva everything she had read about wandlore, including how she didn’t fully understand if wands were sentient. “I mean, Mr. Ollivander has made comments about the wand choosing the witch, but I guess I just don’t see how that’s possible.”

Laughing again and hoping there wouldn’t be another repeat of the apothecary incident, Minerva answered as best as she could. “Wandlore is very mysterious, and nobody who isn’t heavily involved in the field fully understands it. In fact, some would argue that even those who are considered masters in the field never obtain a full understanding.”

As Ollivander’s came into sight a few shops away, Minerva steered Hermione to the other side of the street.

“Whether wands are sentient or not, I do not know, but they are certainly more than mere tools. There are recorded instances of wands acting of their own accord, and of wands refusing to work for anyone other than their master. Again, what this means for sentience, I do not know, but it’s definitely interesting.”

Minerva held the door open for Hermione and followed her into Ollivander’s shop. “As for the wand choosing the witch, well, I think it’s best you experience that for yourself.”

“Wise woman you are, professor.” A voice spoke from around the corner, behind a huge tower of thin rectangular boxes. Actually, now that Hermione properly looked, she noticed that all of the walls in the shop were covered with those same boxes. As Hermione focused, she could feel something coming from the boxes, could almost hear them whispering in her ear. It was like the air was charged with power, and while Hermione didn’t know what to think of it, it was mildly exhilarating.

So when a man walked out from behind the corner where the voice come from, Hermione didn’t even stop to take in his appearance (an old man with pale skin and dazzling silver eyes). No, she immediately asked the question that was bugging her from the moment she stepped inside.

“Why are the boxes buzzing?”

Mr. Ollivander stopped walking and stared at Hermione, looking as shocked as anyone Hermione had ever seen. Minerva, alarmed, asked “Hermione, what do you mean?”

“Buzzing. The boxes. It’s like they’re charging the air…or whispering.” Hermione trailed off when she noticed that Ollivander was slowly walking toward her, his gaze unwavering.

Minerva noticed too, so she didn’t ask any more questions.

When Ollivander was three feet away he finally spoke. “Most unusual. Tell me, child, what is your name?”

“Hermione”

Ollivander kept staring at her, mumbling “Most unusual” under his breath.

Now Minerva chimed in and asked, “Excuse me, Garrick, but what exactly is going on here?”

Snapping out of his apparently deep thoughts, Garrick Ollivander looked at Minerva as though remembering she was in his shop. “Hermione can feel the wands, something that I can only recall one person of being able to do in my entire life. And they were not a child.”

Looking back at Hermione, Ollivander smiled. “You, my dear, are intuitive. Probably creative. Maybe with a knack for different and lesser known fields of magic…” he trailed off as he appeared lost in thought again.

Then, just as Hermione was about to remind him that she needed a wand, he jumped up and retrieved a box from a corner shelf.

“Let’s start with this one, yes. Walnut and dragon heartstring, 12 ½”, reasonably springy.”

When he placed the box on the counter and removed the lid, Hermione merely looked at it, not knowing what to do. Ollivander said, “Well go on, give it a wave.”

Hermione picked up the wand, and when she did it was almost as if the faint whisper in her head became clearer. It wasn’t so much that she actually heard a voice, and yet she felt and understood what the wand was saying. This wand felt nice, and it told her that they could be friends and would work well together, but that they weren’t truly bound. Without even waving it, Hermione set it back in the box. “Friend, but not a true match” Hermione told Ollivander.

Ollivander, who would normally get young witches and wizards to try as many wands as it took before they produced a positive piece of magic, decided to change his tactic. Recalling a story his grandfather told him about a young boy who could understand the wands, Ollivander decided to try something new.

“Hermione, I’d like you to close your eyes for a moment.” Checking to see that Hermione obeyed, Ollivander continued. “Listen to the wands, Hermione. Feel them. Let their intentions seep into your pores and flood your mind.”

Hermione wouldn’t have been able to tell you how she did it, but she did. Letting the wands seep into her was as easy as breathing.

“Now, feel for one that feels like you. The walnut told you it was a friend, but not a true match. Hermione, I want you to feel your true match, and let it feel you. Nod when you find it.”

Breathing deeply, Hermione first tried sorting through all of the wands to find hers. After going through ten non-matches, though, she remembered the idea of wands having intelligence and sentience and decided to let her wand find her. So she opened her mind and heart and poured everything out. They felt her pain, curiosity, and intelligence. They felt her past and present. They felt everything, and as she opened herself up more and more, most of the wands went away. A few remained though, and as Hermione peeled away the last layers of her mind and when a single tear rolled down her cheek, only one remained. It screamed at her “Mine!” and Hermione understood. This wand was just like her: intelligent, curious, and lonely. Hermione nodded, signaling Ollivander that she had it.

“Very good.” Hermione couldn’t see him, but Ollivander was looking at her with awe and reverence. “Now go to it. Trust it to guide you, and go to it.”

Hermione, still with her eyes closed, stared confidently walking toward the back of the shop. She weaved through stacks of wands and shelves until she got to the final shelf. There, she felt her wand well above her head, and without even pausing to think she raised her left arm and willed her wand to fall into her open hand.

Not even registering Minerva’s shocked gasp at the display of wandless magic, Hermione opened the box and held her wand tightly in her hand. Finally opening her eyes, Hermione looked down to see the outside of the wand that shared her soul.

Ollivander spoke then, breaking Hermione’s enchanted state. “Pine and dragon heartstring, 10 ¾”, solid.”

Hermione looked up at him, still swimming in the feelings she had just shared with her wand. “Mine.”

Ollivander nodded, staring at her in astonishment. “Yours.”

“What in Merlin’s name just happened?” Minerva, who was thoroughly confused during the entire affair, demanded answers.

“Let’s head up front and I’ll do my best to explain.”

When all three people were standing in the front of the store, Ollivander began speaking. “Simply put, Hermione is one of only a handful of people alive who can communicate with wands. In a way similar to Parseltongue, speaking to wands is not an acquired skill. It’s something you are either born with or not, and nobody who has ever been born with it has shared the secrets they’ve learned.” Ollivander’s face had taken on a hungry quality and he asked Hermione, “What was it like? What did they say?”

Somehow, without quite knowing why, Hermione knew she couldn’t ever tell anyone. What she had was a gift, and the wands wanted her to keep her gift to herself. So she met Ollivander’s eyes and said “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Dejected, the hungry look fading, Ollivander nodded. “Oh, I know, but it doesn’t hurt to try. I’ve spent my entire life with them and have never been able to truly understand them. Not really.”

Minerva merely stood in shocked silence. This was not a branch of magic she had even heard of, and for some reason she felt like she was intruding on a private moment. When the silence stretched on between Ollivander and Hermione, though, she thought it time to move them all along. “How much do we owe you?”

Ollivander looked startled at being asked such a question, a look that quickly morphed into indignation. “You think I’m going to charge a true communicator? It is I who should be paying her for the privilege of watching her complete a bond!”

Minerva looked taken aback, again. Hermione stepped in this time and placed an arm on Ollivander’s shoulder. “Then let me give you something from them, a message they want you to know.”

Ollivander looked down at her in barely contained excitement.

“They say thank you. You cannot possibly know how much your work and care mean to them all. So thank you.”

Ollivander’s eyes filled with tears and he wrapped Hermione in a brief hug of gratitude, before smiling fondly at all of his wands. “It’s been my life’s pleasure.”

They stayed like that for another minute before Hermione stepped back, looked into Ollivander’s eyes, and turned to leave the shop. On her way out, Ollivander simply said, “the wand chooses the witch.”

Something Hermione now understood.


	7. Diagon Alley Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flourish and Botts leads to an unfortunate situation for Hermione.

“So…” Minerva trailed off, not quite sure how to discuss what just happened.

“So…wands are sentient and I can talk to them. Well, not talk exactly, but communicate. Interpret? That might be a better word.” Hermione shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“But…why did you just learn this now? I mean, obviously you never encountered a wand in your life in the muggle world, but you’ve been around my wand before. Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Hermione sighed and took a moment to compose her answer. “I’m not sure, but I think because it had nothing to say. It’s hard to explain. In the store just now there were hundreds of wands and it was just a lot all at once. If it’s just one wand though, or just a few, then I would be the one to have to reach out and make contact.”

Looking up and seeing Minerva’s confused face, Hermione shook her head and added “I don’t really understand it myself, honestly. Can we just…pretend that it didn’t happen and go get my books?”

Mentally making a note to talk to Albus and read up on wandlore, Minerva said “Of course, dear. Follow me and we’ll go to Flourish and Botts.”

Walking through Diagon Alley toward Flourish and Botts, Hermione thought about what she had just told Minerva. She wasn’t lying, exactly. It _was_ hard to explain, and she really hadn’t noticed anything until being surrounded by the wands in Ollivander’s.

What she left out in her explanation to Minerva, though, was that she now felt like this power inside of her was awake. She could feel all of the wands around her—from Minerva to the unknown wizard walking the other way.

She wasn’t outright communicating with them, but she could feel her potential to do so. Focusing on a random older witch sitting outside of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, Hermione reached out to the woman’s wand.

Immediately, she felt a thread connecting her mind to the wand. No words were exchanged—nor were any images exchanged—and yet, somehow, Hermione understood the wand. Sycamore and unicorn hair, this wand was growing profoundly frustrated. Its owner used to be adventurous and exciting, but as she was growing older she was becoming quite boring and routine.

And again, Hermione couldn’t tell you exactly how she knew, but she knew without a doubt that if kept bored for another week the sycamore wand would spontaneously combust. She also knew that if she told the witch, the witch could alter her lifestyle and strengthen her connection to the wand.

But Hermione couldn’t tell the witch. The wands in Ollivander’s had told her that if word got out about her abilities then she would never have peace. Every magical being would be vying for her attention, and she would be placed in positions of increasing difficulty. Because as much as they relied on witches and wizards, wands were also highly secretive and didn’t want their inner workings known to the public.

So Hermione sent a wave of sympathy to the sycamore wand and released the thread, cutting her connection. Hermione found it a bit easier with every step she took to filter out the wands around her. She still felt them, but pushing them to the back of her mind was surprisingly easy for her.

Hermione was reminded of an American comic called “Superman,” where an incredibly powerful alien had to learn to use his powers on Earth. His senses were dialed to one thousand and he could see and hear everything, but as time went on, he learned to control the information he took in. She didn’t have x-ray vision or super hearing, but she did feel like she had an extra sense that she was learning to control.

“Here we are.”

Startled out of her thoughts by Minerva’s announcement, Hermione felt her heart leap in her chest as she took in the sight in front of her. A book store. A magical book store.

Seeing Hermione’s face break out into a grin at the sight of the books, Minerva allowed herself a small smile of her own. Whatever creature Hermione was going to turn into every month, whatever shocking new magical abilities she discovered, whatever abuse she endured, Minerva was glad to see that Hermione still found enjoyment in something as simple as a book store.

Taking the supply list out of her pocket, Minerva was about to suggest splitting up to find the books when she saw a table labelled “Hogwarts First Years.” Walking over to the table, Minerva was pleased to see that Flourish and Botts had created First Year bundles for five galleons a piece. Grabbing one and turning toward Hermione, Minerva asked “How many galleons do you have left from your Hogwarts fund?”

Fumbling around in her pocket, Hermione pulled out the sack of money and poured the contents into her palm. Counting, she replied “ten.”

“Ten?!” Minerva was shocked, until she remembered that Ollivander had not charged Hermione the standard seven galleon for her wand.

“Well then. All of your school books are here for five galleons, so that leaves you with five galleons to spend on whatever you want. I take it you want to spend it in here?”

Hermione nodded so hard Minerva thought her head was going to fall off, and then said “Yes please! How long do I have before we have to leave?”

Minerva checked her wrist watch and noticed that they had about an hour until lunch time. “We should probably get lunch in about an hour and then head back to Hogwarts. So I’ll give you an hour in here, maximum hour and a half.”

Standing tensed like a sprinter on the starting blocks, Hermione looked expectantly at Minerva, waiting for some sort of signal.

Amused once again by Hermione’s enthusiasm for books, Minerva said “Starting now.” Taking that as her signal, Hermione took off down the nearest aisle, eyes peeled for books of interest. Minerva decided that while they were at Flourish and Botts she might as well do some browsing of her own, and she headed off down a separate aisle.

An hour later found our two witches with two growing stacks of books.

In Hermione’s stack: _The First Wands_ , _The Evolution of the Dark Arts_ , _Nonverbal Spells_ (a suggestion from her wand, actually), and _Advanced Potion Making_.

In Minerva’s stack: _The First Wands_ , _Wands: Sentient Beings or Mindless Tools?_ , July’s edition of _Transfiguration Today_ , _Mental Health in the Magical Community_ , and _Childhood Trauma: Long-term Effects_.

As Hermione made her way toward the magical creatures section, not even thinking about the time, Minerva glanced at her watch and started, realizing that an hour had already passed. Deciding to find Hermione and tell her to begin wrapping things up, Minerva set off toward the left end of the store to begin her methodical sweep of the aisles.

Meanwhile, in the far right corner of the store, Hermione was quickly realizing that she made a colossal mistake by wandering into the creature section. Dropping her books unceremoniously onto the floor, Hermione struggled to keep the negative thoughts at bay as she started reading the titles on front of her.

_How to Protect Yourself Against Werewolves_

_A How-To Guide for Werewolf Hunting_

_Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don’t Deserve to Live_

_Child Wolves: An Argument for Mercy Killings, and Other Essays_

Scarcely believing that the last title was real, Hermione reached a trembling hand out and took it down from the shelf. Flipping to a random page, she started reading.

_“Despite our best efforts as parents, sometimes our nightmare scenarios become reality. Maybe your child gets splinched, or takes a tumble from a broomstick, or heaven forbid falls ill with dragon pox. And maybe, the nightmare of all nightmares—your child runs afoul of a werewolf on a full moon._

_What is a parent to do if that happens? With the other scenarios just listed, the treatments are straightforward. Splinched? Essence of dittany. Broomstick? Mend the bones. Dragon pox? Quarantine and hospitalization. But when it comes to the disease of lycanthropy, there is no easy answer._

_I recently read an opinion piece written by the mother of one such infected child who believed that bitten children should be treated immediately with silver and dittany and allowed to live their lives with the disease. What this mother failed to address, however, is this vital question: What kind of life are you saving your child for?_

_Now, I’m not saying that every prejudice against the infected community is valid. In fact, I have met several well-mannered and behaved werewolves and would even go so far as to call one of them a dear friend. However, the fact of the matter is that to the rest of the world, werewolves are little more than vile and dangerous creatures._

_And honestly, can you blame them? Even my dear friend RJ, the werewolf, acknowledges that he wouldn’t hesitate to tear my head off in his transformed state. When I bring up this argument in polite conversation, sometimes someone will try to argue back by citing the existence of Wolfsbane._

_Now, Wolfsbane is a remarkable potion, but it is hardly feasible. How is a werewolf, who we all know employers won’t hire, supposed to afford an expensive potion like Wolfsbane? But even outside of the cost, is that any way to live? Wolfsbane must be taken each day for a week leading up to the full moon, and if even one potion is missed it voids the entire effect._

_Is that the kind of life you want for your child? To be a slave to a potion that they can’t afford, or, if they miss even one dose of that potion, to murder anyone and everyone they are near? How many times do we have to read stories of werewolves murdering their families, or infecting innocents with their disease before it sinks in?_

_Werewolves, simply by nature of their disease, are unstable and dangerous. Regardless of who a werewolf is in human form, the fact remains that they are a deeply diseased monster on the inside. A monster that craves nothing more than your death._

_So what would you do if your child was infected? Would you selfishly condemn them to a life of misery and murder just so you can claim the moral high ground? Or would you refuse the treatment of silver and dittany and allow them to die—hurting yourself but mercifully saving them from a life of exclusion and pain?_

_For me, there’s no question._

_Written by Thaddeus R._

 

Hermione knew that people didn’t like werewolves, but to learn that there were people who actively wanted children like her to die was too much. Was that really the life she was destined for?

Sinking to the floor, Hermione tucked her head into her knees and started breathing deeply, trying to calm down before she lost it. But it wasn’t enough. Her mind was screaming at her that she wasn’t safe, that there were people like Thaddeus R. lurking just around the corner waiting to kill her. Her breathing and heart rate increased, incited by her panic. She felt like someone was choking her, she couldn’t breathe.

Hermione sat there gasping for breath, sweating profusely, for several minutes with no change. She thought she was going crazy. She felt like her skin was crawling, like everyone was looking at her even though she was alone in that corner of the store.

Digging her nails into her forearms, Hermione tried to scratch away the crawling feeling. She reached up and pulled at her hair, trying desperately to make her panic go away. Pain always distracted her before, but nothing was working.

She felt her wand poking at the edge of her consciousness, but she forced it out. What if it found out what she was and hated her for it?

Hearing steps coming around the corner, Hermione put her head further down between her legs and scooted back into the corner. Someone was going to kill her. Someone was coming to kill her right now, she just knew it. She was gasping for breath and starting to feel lightheaded.

She felt someone fall to the ground beside her and pull her into their arms. She tried to shake them off-- what if they found out what she was?

They held on anyway, and after a minute Hermione started to hear what the mystery figure was saying. “Shh, shh. Come on, Hermione. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me. In, out, in, out. That’s it. No one’s going to hurt you, just breathe. In, out.”

Hermione processed that it was Minerva speaking to her, and tried to do what she said. Focusing on her breathing, Hermione’s gasping breaths started calming down into a more even rhythm.

“You’re doing great. In and out, breathe. Nobody is going to hurt you. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Shaking as she came down from her panic, Hermione relaxed enough to pick her head up from her legs. Minerva kept stroking her back, muttering soothing words.

Breathing deeply and evenly now, Hermione buried her face in Minerva’s neck and mumbled “I’m sorry.”

Her heart breaking, Minerva said “No need to be sorry, love. Like Albus said before, we’ll be here for you every step of the way, no matter what.”

Minerva kept rubbing circles into Hermione’s back, allowing her to take whatever comfort she needed from her. Hoping that she wasn’t overstepping, Minerva asked “What brought this on?”

Hermione picked up her head and, spotting the book that started her panic, pointed to it before burying her face back into Minerva’s neck. Shifting so that she could reach the book behind her, Minerva reached out and grabbed it. Bringing it around front so she could read it, her heart sank when she saw the title.

Kicking herself for allowing Hermione to wander off by herself, Minerva thought it was no wonder that Hermione had another break down. If she were a child werewolf and had just come across this book without warning she would have found herself in a similar position.

“Oh, Hermione. I’m so sorry you had to find this alone. Please know that this point of view is a minority, and that for every hateful essay Thaddeus has written there have been five supportive ones to combat it.”

“But- but…” Hermione mumbled something Minerva didn’t hear.

“What was that, Hermione?”

“But he’s right! What kind of life will I ever have? You should’ve just let me die.”

Hearing Hermione say those words shattered Minerva’s heart into a million pieces, and she jerked Hermione off of her neck in order to look her in the eyes.

“Now you listen to me, Hermione Granger. I have known you for less than a month and I can already tell that you are destined for greatness. You are intelligent, curious, and incredibly resilient. You are a survivor, and I won’t have you speaking nonsense like that just because of a prejudiced old fool like Thaddeus. If he really had the support of the community he wouldn’t be writing under a pen name. Do you understand me?”

Slightly scared by Minerva’s ferocity, Hermione nodded.

“Good. Now, show me what books you picked out.”

Somewhat relieved to be returning to a normal topic, Hermione gathered up her books from where she dropped them. When she held them out to Minerva, though, her sleeves pushed up and uncovered the scratches she had just carved into her skin. Seeing Minerva’s eyes widen, Hermione quickly pulled her arms back and let her sleeves drop.

“Hermione,” Minerva’s voice was sad, a pitying kind of sad that Hermione didn’t need. When Hermione refused to look at her, Minerva sighed. “Hermione, I’m not upset with you. Upset for you, maybe, but not with you. Just…go see Poppy when we get back and she can give you something for those. I won’t mention it again, okay?”

Hermione nodded, still not looking at Minerva.

“Now, show me what books you’re getting.”

After reviewing Hermione’s book choices, and raising an eyebrow at the book about the Dark Arts, Minerva chalked it up to Hermione’s insatiable curiosity and walked with the girl toward the checkout counter.

Books purchased, Minerva decided to buy Hermione a small gift in an attempt to cheer her up. On their way toward a small restaurant near the Leaky Cauldron, Minerva stopped at Slug and Jiggers, saying “I just need to pick something up.”

Seeing Hermione and Minerva back in his shop for the second time that day, the shopkeeper internally groaned as he plastered a customer service smile on his face. He needn’t have worried, though, as Hermione was no longer in a questioning mood. As Minerva moved toward a back corner of the shop, Hermione stood where she was by the entryway.

It was then that Hermione’s wand decided it had enough of being pushed away and made itself known again. After expressing its displeasure at being shut out, her wand then offered something Minerva couldn’t—understanding, devoid of pity.

Hermione took a deep breath as her wand told her it was okay and encouraged her not to give up, suggesting, rather wisely in its opinion, that she start working through one of her new books. Smiling a bit, Hermione patted her inner pocket where her wand sat in thanks. Knowing it wanted to be tested as much as it wanted Hermione to feel better, Hermione took her wand’s advice with a grain of salt.

Minerva made her way back toward Hermione and they exited the shop, making their way toward the restaurant when Hermione said “Actually, is it alright if we go back now? I’m not really hungry.”

“We can go back, but you’re going to need to eat something. If I send one of the elves to you with food do you promise that you’ll try to eat something?”

Sighing, realizing that she wasn’t going to get out of eating, Hermione nodded. At least she could get some solitude back at Hogwarts.

Making their way back toward the fireplaces, Hermione went first through the Floo this time. Stepping into the green flames with no hesitation, Hermione spoke “Minerva McGonagall’s office” and stepped out onto Minerva’s carpet a moment later.

Minerva appeared a few seconds later and helped Hermione bring all of her things to her room.

Once in her room, Minerva said “Before I go, I have a couple of things for you.” Hermione was surprised, but waited patiently as Minerva first fished into her pocket for something. Pulling out what looked like a miniature model of a trunk, Minerva tapped it with her wand and said “lemon drop,” which made it grow to full size.

“To be fair, this is from Albus. He asked me to give it to you after you got all of your supplies today. It’s a trunk with an automatic shrinking and expanding spell. All you need to do is say “lemon drop” and it will change size. You can also set your own password to lock and unlock it. The first time you tap it with your wand just say what you want your password to be and it will automatically set.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect!” Hermione exclaimed happily.

“I’ll pass along the thanks. Now, for what I got you.” Minerva pulled a package out of the bag from Slug and Jiggers and handed it to Hermione. “I thought you might like to do some potion work outside of class, so I got you an advanced starter kit. It contains all of your standard advanced potions ingredients.”

Hermione was speechless in her gratitude, and instead gave Minerva a quick hug.

“Yes, well, do try not to do anything dangerous without supervision.” Minerva decided that a “professor” warning was in order.

Hermione smiled and said “I won’t,” knowing full well that she probably would.

Minerva seemed satisfied, though, and said “I’ll be sending up an elf shortly with your lunch, with strict orders to report to me if you don’t eat at least half of it.

Nodding, Hermione actually thought that was doable. With the prospect of brewing potions and practicing spells in her near future, things were looking up. She could almost forget that the full moon was 8 days away.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing Hermione's mental health struggles primarily off of my own, with a bit drawn from those of my friends. If you want to suggest ways to make scenes like this come across better/stronger, please do. If, however, you want to tell me how unrealistic they are or how things like this don't happen-- don't.


	8. Potions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione takes Wolfsbane and meets a certain Potions Master.

“Albus, I don’t know why you made me slave away over this in the middle of the summer, but here you go” Severus griped as he set a cauldron of Wolfsbane down on the Headmaster’s desk.

“Thank you, Severus. And, since I wouldn’t want you thinking I was the type to keep secrets,” Severus rolled his eyes when Albus said that, fully aware that Albus was one of the most secretive men alive, “I will tell you that this potion is for a new student who will be starting her first year in August.”

“A student, are you insane? Have you learned nothing since the last student werewolf you allowed to attend Hogwarts?” Severus’s face clouded in anger.

“Now now, Severus. I know you had your differences with the self-styled “Marauders,” but must you hang onto a school boy grudge against Remus?”

“School boy grudge? Have you forgotten that he nearly killed me?!” Severus was now pacing in front of Albus’s desk, clearly displeased.

“An event for which he was most apologetic, despite the fact that it was not his fault. You know as well as I do that it was James and Sirius who lured you to the Shrieking Shack that night.”

“Yes, James and Sirius. His friends! What happens if this werewolf gets friends who think it’s a good idea to lure their enemies to their deaths? Or worse, what if this werewolf gets friends who think it’s a good idea to roam around the castle grounds at night with a fully transformed werewolf, putting every student’s life in danger?” Severus was breathing hard, but Albus remained seated and infuriatingly calm.

“I can see that you are going to let your emotions get the best of you, but I sincerely hope that you one day reconsider. Hermione is a bright young girl with a truly horrific past, and she did not ask to be dragged into this world. So please, try not to judge her based on your memories of a werewolf and his foolish friends. She is far from foolish. In fact, she reminds me quite a bit of you, Severus.”

“Me? Somehow I doubt that.” Severus put a well practiced sneer on his face, but inside he was remembering the broken girl he had seen from his window. Was that Hermione?

“Perhaps in time you will see. Actually, from what Minerva tells me Hermione is likely going to be spending a bit of time in your dungeons brewing potions. Apparently she used her last galleons to buy a few extra books, including “Advanced Potion Making.” Something I recall you yourself doing, back in the day.”

Severus huffed, trying not to allow any sympathy to creep into his mind.

“And besides, many of the problems with Remus will not be experienced by Hermione. Wolfsbane is a rather miraculous creation, as you well know.”

Still, Severus did not respond. When he knew he was wrong he tended to retreat into himself. Change did not come easily for Severus.

Albus, well used to Severus’s tactics of avoidance by now, merely sighed and dismissed him by saying “You may leave, Severus, but please do try to keep an open mind. Ms. Granger is not Mr. Lupin, nor do I believe she would have it in herself to ever become so careless.” 

\---

“Is that it?” Hermione asked as she pointed to the cauldron of Wolfsbane on Albus’s desk. “Is that Wolfsbane?”

“Yes, it is. You will need to come here every day for the next seven days and drink one cup of it.” Albus smiled at Hermione and said “Though I must warn you, it doesn’t have a pleasant flavor.”

Hermione walked over to the cauldron and ladled some of the potion into the provided cup. She brought it to her nose and took a sniff. Revolted by the unpleasant bitter odor, she crinkled up her nose and turned to Albus. “You weren’t kidding. Do I need to drink it all?”

“I’m afraid so. And my sincerest apologies that we cannot add sugar to it, as I’m afraid that counteracts the effects-” Albus stopped talking when Hermione downed the entire cup in a matter of seconds.

“Ah, well. It seems you don’t need sugar after all.”

Hermione shrugged. “Eh. It’s not great, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever downed. So, same time tomorrow?”

Albus nodded and Hermione exited his office. He sat for a moment, thinking to himself “Well, she seems to be taking her impending transformation well.”

\--- 

That afternoon found Hermione avoiding difficult emotions by sitting in an empty classroom in the dungeons, working on a potion she found in her advanced book called Draught of Living Death. She had found extra cauldrons in a broom closet and was hard at work testing various alterations to the potion directions.

Hermione set up her cauldron as the control, following the directions exactly as written. In cauldrons labelled two through four, she diverged from the written instructions and experimented to see if she could improve on the result of the control.

She played around with the direction of stirring, method of releasing the juices from the sopophorus beans, and several other steps of brewing to see if anything changed for the better. She took meticulous notes, and fielded suggestions from her wand (which was mainly trying to distract her so she could practice spell work with it).

Finally, after a little over an hour, she had four fully brewed potions sitting on the table before her. Excited to see what the results were, she dug around in her bag until she unearthed a container of fresh leaves and flowers she had gathered on her morning walk.

Deciding to record the time it took each potion to destroy three leaves and one flower, Hermione set up a timer and stood over her control. Pushing go on the timer at the same time as she dropped the foliage into the cauldron, she stared at it until it burnt up. Six seconds.

Moving on to cauldrons two, three, and four, Hermione repeated the process, jotting down the time until destruction with each trial. Cauldron two did nothing to the leaves or flower, but cauldrons three and four were each faster than the control—one and four seconds respectively.

Noting that cauldron three produced the best results, Hermione was writing her alterations into her “Advanced Potion Making” book when the door to the classroom banged open and a tall, dark haired man walked in.

Stopping when he saw that his classroom was occupied, Severus narrowed his eyes, recognizing Hermione and allowing his past to sour his feelings toward her. “Who are you and what are you doing in my classroom?”

Hermione gulped, unsure if Albus or Minerva had spoken to this professor about her yet, and started trying to explain. “My name is Hermione. I’ll be a first year this year, but I’m staying in the castle early because I don’t have anywhere else to go right now.”

“And what, pray tell, are you doing in my classroom?” Severus gestured toward the four cauldrons, “Playing with my equipment?”

“Um, well, sir.” Hermione took a deep breath and pushed her rolled up sleeves back over her elbows. “I got a book called “Advanced Potion Making” and decided to work my way through it systematically and see if any of the potions could be improved upon. I just finished my first trial for Draught of Living Death.”

Severus raised his eyebrow, unsure if he should scold her for attempting a dangerous potion or praise her for having the nerve to try something that would obviously be outside of her skill level. He decided to split the difference and said “Interesting. What were your results?”

Hermione’s eyes lit up at the chance to explain, and launched right into it. “Well, sir, I created one control where I followed the directions as they were written in the book, and three experiments where I diverged from the written instructions. My goal was to make a modification that would destroy three leaves and one flower in a faster time than the control.”

Severus walked closer to her table, intrigued in spite of himself.

Hermione kept on explaining. “My control took six seconds for complete destruction to occur, cauldron two never achieved destruction, cauldron three was my most successful with destruction in one second, and cauldron four was also successful with four seconds.”

“I recorded all of my modifications in here,” Hermione indicated a muggle spiral bound notebook filled with tight, tidy scrawl, “and was in the process of annotating my book with my modifications for cauldron three when you walked in. Sir.”

“May I?” Severus indicated her notebook, and when she nodded he picked it up and flipped to the section labelled Cauldron Three. He was shocked to see that Hermione’s modifications on this cauldron were the same that had taken him until his fourth year to discover.

He placed the notebook down and leaned over cauldron three, seeing its perfect black surface. Taking a leaf from Hermione’s box, he dropped it into the cauldron and watched in awe as it was destroyed in less than one second.

Turning to Hermione in disbelief, Severus asked “Have you had any sort of formal potions education in the past? Your mother, or another relative perhaps?”

Severus didn’t miss the way Hermione’s eyes darkened when he said mother, and made a note of that in the back of his mind.

She shook her head and said “No. I’m a muggle born, Professor…” Hermione trailed off, realizing that this man had never introduced himself.

“Professor Snape, Potions Master.” Severus was floored by the revelation that she was a muggle born. He had never seen anybody with such natural talent, especially since she said that this was her first trial.

“Hermione, did you say? What’s your surname?”

Hermione’s nose turned up as she said, “Granger, sir.”

“Not a fan of your name?”

“No sir. It’s my mother’s name.”

Hermione didn’t offer anything else, trying to keep from going on a rant about Jean Granger, and Severus didn’t pry.

“Well then. In private I suppose I can call you Hermione, but in class I’ll have to call you Ms. Granger. Is that…amenable?” Severus never showed this kind of consideration to a student, but Hermione’s reference to her mother made Severus think of his own mother and how angry he would be if somebody tried to call him by her name.

“Yes sir, thank you.”

Severus, realizing that he was growing fonder of the girl the longer he stayed in the room, decided to quickly retreat before his emotions got out of hand. “Make sure this all gets cleaned and returned to its proper place. You are welcome to use this room, but if I find it destroyed or damaged in any way I will be most displeased. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” Hermione nodded and reached out to shift cauldron three away from the others to continue taking her notes, and that’s when Severus noticed the scratches she had put there just two days ago.

Taking in a sharp breath, the image before him morphed into a young Slytherin boy sitting at that very table, brewing potions while his mind warred with him and hurt him both within and without. Blinking and realizing that Hermione was looking at him with worry, Severus quickly turned and strode toward the door, but hesitated before stepping through.

Turning around, Severus quickly said “Good work, Hermione” before quickly walking down the hall.

Hermione replayed that interaction in her mind as she finished transferring her notes on cauldron three into her book, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. He seemed to approve of what she was doing, but he also seemed to harbor some sort of resentment toward her. “Which is ridiculous, since he doesn’t even know me” she muttered to herself.

Finishing up her annotation, Hermione closed her book and stared at the cauldrons, trying to decide how to dispose of their contents. Her wand chose that moment to subtly remind her of a spell she had just read about called “scourgify” that would dispose of the cauldron contents safely and with ease.

Trying to think of the wand movements required, Hermione’s eyes lit up and she drew her wand when she remembered. Pointing her wand at her control, Hermione made the necessary wand motion and said “scourgify” with more confidence than she felt.

Looking over the edge of the cauldron, Hermione clapped excitedly when she saw that nearly all of the potion was gone. Pointing her wand and saying “scourgify” once more, she watched as the cauldron became gleamingly clean.

Moving down the line, Hermione cleaned out every cauldron, and by the last one she did it with only one casting of “scourgify.” Remembering Professor Snape’s warning, she returned the borrowed cauldrons to the closet and meticulously wiped down her table.

Stepping back, satisfied with her day’s work, Hermione headed to her room to continue reading her school books. She wanted to learn everything. She felt like she _needed_ to learn everything. If her mind was constantly full of new information, it didn’t leave her any room to dwell on the negative thoughts. At least, that’s what Hermione hoped.


	9. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione struggles with her impending transformation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger warning*** for self-harm.

The next week passed by with aching slowness as Hermione began to feel more ill. She read extensively about transformations and knew that transformation was usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health as the body prepared for the change. But still, logically knowing the reason behind her sickness didn’t make it suck any less.

Hermione felt so poor two days before the full moon that she stayed in bed all day, getting a house elf to bring her water and small amounts of food instead of going to dine with Albus and Minerva like usual. Albus even brought her the Wolfsbane personally, knowing she was under the weather. She continued to read her school books, most of which she had already completed by then, but without the distraction of anything hands on she found herself having an increasingly hard time shaking her negative thoughts.

She felt a lot of things in the lead up to her first transformation. The emotion that poked its way through her mental shields first was anger, and Hermione spent several hours pacing around in her room or, when her energy failed her, staring daggers into the ceiling. She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t ask to be bitten, she didn’t ask to spend half of her life in sickness, and she certainly didn’t ask to turn into the monster that still haunted her dreams. “It’s not fair!” she shouted at the ceiling before falling into a coughing fit from the unexpected exertion.

Once she had some time to process her anger, Hermione was struck by a wave of sadness. “It’s not fair” she whispered to that same ceiling. Tears filled her eyes and she did absolutely nothing to impede their progress as they drew lines down her face. She didn’t ask to be bitten. She didn’t even ask to be a part of the magical world, but she certainly didn’t ask to be treated like a pariah in it. Remembering the woman in St. Mungo’s, and how her face instantly became one of disgust and fear when she learned of Hermione’s status, Hermione started to cry in earnest.

It was during this crying that her final major emotion reared its head: fear. Hermione was absolutely terrified, and no amount of reading or reassurance could change that fact. Her body was going to break and bend and reform into a hideous monster who would kill anyone and anything if not held back by a potion. And yes, having Wolfsbane assuaged some of her fear, but the fact remained that her body would not be her own. The fact that she would become a monster.

The fact that she was a monster.

Her mind being unfocused and weak from her current ill state, all of those emotions easily overtook her. Feeling the onset of a breakdown, Hermione’s first instinct was to do what she always did—make herself physically hurt. Looking around for something she could use to distract her from her mental anguish, her eyes alighted on a letter opener sitting on her desk.

Stumbling out of bed and across the room, she grabbed the opener by its blade and walked back to the bed, not caring that the opener cut a few shallow lines into her palm. Sitting on the bed, Hermione pulled her pants down to her knees and blinked away the tears to look at her leg. Setting the point of the letter opener in the middle of her patchwork of scars, Hermione squeezed her skin together and started to push down. Wincing as the pain hit, she slowly dragged the blade down and released her hand, watching as her skin parted and bled.

And then, just as quickly as she started, she stopped. Coming out of her delirium long enough to remember Minerva and Albus’s faces when they found out about her history and offered her love and support, and to imagine what their faces would look like if they saw her in that moment, she screamed and threw the blade across the room.

She needed to stop. She had known she needed to stop from the first time she put a blade against her skin, but it was so incredibly hard. Pulling up her pants, not noticing when the blood from her cut soaked through the thin material, Hermione dropped her head in her hands. When she felt the overwhelming urge to pull her hair, she moved her hands to the side of the bed. But all that did was make her want to pummel the wood with her fists.

Screaming again, Hermione somehow found the strength to walk to the door of her room and exit into the hallway. She remembered the promise Minerva wanted her to make, the promise to go to Poppy if things became too much, and so she stumbled her way down the hall toward the Hospital Wing.

Climbing a staircase, Hermione tripped at the top and landed on her hands and knees. And it was in this position that Severus saw her in as he rounded the corner. A young girl, physically sick due to her impending transformation, with blood coming from her hand and through her pants, in clear emotional distress. To say Severus was shocked would be an understatement.

“Hermione?!”

Hermione looked up at Severus and said nothing, only climbing a bit unsteadily to her feet. He rushed forward to support her as she wobbled, and didn’t even mind when she latched onto his hand with her bloody one.

“Hermione, what happened?”

Hermione’s anger made a quick resurgence as she said “What happened is I turned into a bloody werewolf!”

But her anger dissipated as quickly as it started, and she mumbled a quiet “I’m sorry. Tell Minerva and Albus that I’m sorry. They told me not to, but it just hurts.”

Hermione started crying in earnest again. “It hurts so much.”

Severus scooped her up like a baby and took off down the corridor toward the medical wing before Hermione could even process what was going on. “I know it hurts, Hermione. Believe me, I know.”

Hermione scoffed through her tears. “I don’t believe you.”

Severus didn’t reply and just kept walking, and less than two minutes later he was kicking open the medical bay doors and setting Hermione down on the nearest cot as he retrieved Poppy from her office.

Poppy started as Severus came barging into her office, but before she could even berate him for not knocking, he was speaking. “Hermione is on the cot by the door. I’m pretty sure she cut herself, but most of her pain seems to be mental.”

Poppy grabbed her wand and bustled from her office, and sure enough, there was a sobbing Hermione Granger on one of her cots. Casting diagnostic spells as she walked to Hermione, she quickly determined that her physical injuries were non threatening and could be easily remedied.

Kneeling down beside Hermione’s cot, Poppy asked “Hermione, dear, can you tell me what happened?”

Hermione wouldn’t meet Poppy’s eyes as she replied “Please don’t be mad at me. It’s just…everything hurts so much and it’s not fair and I just wanted to feel something else. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Poppy’s heart broke as Hermione begged her not to be mad, since anger was the furthest thing from her mind. “Oh, Hermione. Of course I’m not angry.” Poppy gestured to her leg and said “I am going to have to look at those cuts so I can fix them though.”

“Cut” Hermione mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Cut. There’s only one. I- I stopped and came here like Minerva said to do.”

“Cut, then. Please pull down your pants so I can look at the cut and fix it.”

Hermione unbuttoned and pulled down her pants, and Severus quickly pulled a privacy curtain between them, but not before he caught a brief glimpse of her scars. Tugging at the long black sleeves he always wore, Severus fought his own internal battle.

Hermione’s pain was like an uncomfortable echo of his past, and more than anything he wanted to run from the room and hide from it. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He had to suck it up and be brave for her, because no matter what house she ended up in, she was his student. And because she deserved better.

Oh god, he thought to himself. I sound like a damn Gryffindor.

Standing there lost in his own thoughts, Severus was startled by the sound of the curtain being pulled back and Poppy exiting. Peeking over her shoulder and seeing a sleeping Hermione, Severus followed Poppy to her office when she beckoned.

“Please, take a seat Severus.”

Severus did as Poppy said and sat in a comfortable armchair as Poppy took the one across from it. “I fixed her up and gave her a sleeping potion, but I couldn’t get her to say much other than apologizing for hurting herself.” Poppy shook her head and sighed. “How did you come across her?”

“I was walking toward my quarters and as I rounded a corner I saw her on her hands and knees, bleeding and clearly distraught. I couldn’t get her to say much, but she seemed a bit unsteady on her feet so I picked her up and carried her here.”

“Well, I’m glad you happened upon her when you did. The cuts on her hands and the one on her leg were all pretty shallow, but when you factor in that she’s bound to be feverish and nauseated since we’re two days out from the full moon, and the emotional stress she must be under since this will be her first transformation, well… it’s all far too much for one person to handle. Let alone an eleven year old girl. Lord knows she’s already suffered enough abuse in her life.”

Severus picked up on the mention of abuse and wondered if it had anything to do with Hermione’s aversion to her mother, but decided not to ask. If Hermione eventually wanted to confide in him she could, but he wasn’t going to go snooping before then. So instead he said simply, “I know.”

Because while he wasn’t a werewolf, he knew a thing or two about abuse and trauma. And he decided right then that he was going to try and help Hermione avoid the dark path his own life took when he couldn’t escape his demons. Because, again, she deserved better.

\---

Hermione slept through the rest of the afternoon and well into the next morning. When she woke she felt a lot better mentally, but physically she still felt the effects of the imminent full moon. Poppy, noticing she was awake, came over to her cot.

“And how’s my only patient doing this morning?”

“Better. I still don’t feel good physically, but my brain is definitely better.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Poppy schooled her face into something a bit more serious before continuing. “We do need to talk about yesterday though, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded and looked away, waiting for a scolding.

“I think you are an incredibly strong person, Hermione, and the events of yesterday proved it.”

Hermione was shocked. This definitely wasn’t what she was expecting.

“You are in an immensely vulnerable position right now, and the feelings you’re having aren’t anything to be ashamed of. You know that your past coping methods are unhealthy, but you struggle, which is okay. What you did yesterday, though, when you were able to not only stop and throw away the blade, but to try and get help, required incredible strength. I’m not angry with you, Hermione, I’m proud of you.”

“But-” Hermione was cut off by Poppy.

“No buts about it, Hermione. Yes, you slipped, but you were able to stop and seek help, and that’s all I can ask of you. If you ever feel the need to hurt yourself again, I need you to promise me that you’ll talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, though of course I’m always available, but just talk to someone. Don’t be ashamed of your emotions, Hermione. Recognize them, accept them, and try to deal with them.”

Poppy pulled Hermione into a brief, uncharacteristic hug. “It’s okay not to be okay, Hermione. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through, but you’re incredible and intelligent and will make it through this.”

Hugging Poppy back, Hermione nodded into her shoulder.

“Can you promise me that you’ll talk to someone next time you feel this coming on?”

Pulling back, Poppy looked in Hermione’s eyes and held them, not letting her look away. Hermione took a deep breath and said “Yes.”


	10. First Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the full moon has arrived.

Before she knew it, it was the day of the full moon and she was sitting in Albus’s office going over preparations.

“Since you’re going to be in control of yourself during the entire transformation, there’s no need for you to go to the shack in Hogsmeade where our last werewolf student would spend his full moon nights. All you need is somewhere out of the way where no student will accidentally come across you in the middle of the night. Which, despite being well past curfew, unfortunately makes most of the school and grounds unsuitable for our purposes.”

If Albus was upset about the propensity of students to break the rules, he didn’t show it. “What we are left with is a professor’s personal study, the room you are currently in, or the Room of Requirement. In my excellent opinion, I think you should opt for the Room of Requirement. It’s certainly the more exciting option.”

Hermione had read about the Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room, in “Hogwarts, A History,” but it didn’t give much detail. “I know that the Room of Requirement presents itself to those in need in the form of whatever they need, but I don’t know where it is or how to access it. Though I do agree that it sounds like the more exciting option.”

Albus’s eyes twinkled from behind his half-moon spectacles as he said “Well then, you are quite fortunate to have such a knowledgeable and kind Headmaster.” Standing up and motioning for Hermione to follow him, Albus clapped his hands and said “Field trip!”

They walked in relative silence up to the seventh floor when Albus suddenly stopped in front of a bit of empty wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Spreading his arms wide, he exclaimed “Here we are!”

Hermione, looking at the blank bit of wall skeptically, said “Erm, how exactly do we get in?”

“Ah, yes, that might be an important bit of information. To access the Room of Requirement one must simply walk by this stretch of wall three times while thinking of the thing they require. In your case, a safe, comfortable place to transform. In my case, when I first discovered this room, a place to relieve my bladder.”

Still looking a bit skeptical, Hermione asked “Should I try it now?”

“Of course! Just start over here,” Albus led her to one side of that section of wall, “and walk by it three times while thinking of needing a room to transform in.”

Hermione nodded and started walking, thinking very hard about needing a comfortable and safe place to transform in where nobody would find her. When she finished her third pass she looked at the wall and was relieved to see a small wooden door appear.

Albus gestured her towards it, and when she opened the door she was awed by what she saw. The room was the size of a small bedroom, and there was a large nest of cushions and blankets in one corner that looked quite comfortable. Continuing her sweep of the room, Hermione saw a record player, and walking over to it she saw that there was a large stack of soothing records behind it. There were also, to her relief, no mirrors in the room. Maybe one day, but for now she didn’t think she could handle truly seeing herself as a wolf.

Turning to Albus, Hermione said, “It’s perfect.”

“I’m quite glad you think so. I hope it will help tonight be a bit easier on you.”

\---

A few hours later, Hermione sat at a small table in the Great Hall with Albus, Minerva, Severus, and Poppy eating dinner. Well, the others were eating dinner and she was pushing her food around her plate.

Minerva noticed this and said “Hermione, you need to eat something. You’re going to need all of your strength tonight.”

Minerva’s willingness to address the looming full moon seemed to break some sort of unspoken spell on the table, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief at no longer tip toeing around the subject.

Hermione nodded and managed a few bites, but her stomach was roiling in fear and illness and soon she was back to pushing around her food. Minerva, happy she at least tried, decided to let it go.

Severus turned to Hermione and, to the surprise of the other professors who knew him to be quite surly and distant, attempted to offer Hermione words of reassurance. “Remember, Hermione, that you will retain your entire mental capacity during this transformation and will be in complete control of your actions. If you want to test your abilities in that form you may do so safely, but if you want to do nothing more than lay down and sleep through it all you may do that as well. You will be safe, and more importantly, we will be safe from you.”

“Come on, Severus, of course we’ll be safe. She doesn’t need to be thinking about anyone but herself tonight.” Poppy chimed in, not wanting Hermione to dwell on the potential dangers of her transformed state.

“No, I…I needed that. Thank you.” Hermione smiled at Severus, who looked away a bit uncomfortably and offered a terse nod in recognition.

Pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time, Albus made a surprised sound. “Merlin’s beard, we only have thirty minutes. Hermione, I imagine you’d like to go get things set up?”

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath before pushing her chair back and standing up. When Albus began to rise as well, looking as though he intended to accompany her, Hermione looked at him apologetically and said “If it’s alright with you, I’d really like to make my way alone right now.”

Albus smiled and lowered himself back to his seat. “Of course, my dear. I imagine you have so many voices in your head right now that you don’t need the voice of a stodgy old man in your ear!”

“Erm, yeah. Something like that. Thank you.”

Hermione glanced around the table once more and turned to walk out of the Great Hall. Taking her time walking through the dark corridors, Hermione took deep breaths and remembered what Severus said. They were safe from her.

She wasn’t going to turn into a monster and hurt anyone. She wasn’t going to lurk in the woods and terrify another little girl, or take away anyone’s life. She might not be in control of what her body becomes, but she was certainly in control of her mind.

Keeping up that inner dialogue, it was only a few minutes before Hermione found herself in front of the Room of Requirement. Passing by the wall three times as she did earlier in the day, a small wooden door appeared.

Reaching out and grasping the knob, Hermione muttered under her breath “Not a monster, they’re safe” and summoned the courage to step through the door.

Once inside, she saw that the room was exactly the same as it had been earlier in the day, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing she didn’t have a very long time until it started, Hermione decided to peruse the record collection and start one.

Seeing one that was perfectly named for the occasion, she smiled and put it on. As Moonlight Sonata started playing, she undressed and tucked her clothes into the far corner of the room. Letting the music wash over her, Hermione tried to remain calm and run over everything she knew was going to happen.

In just a few minutes she was going to transform into a wolf. The transformation, being her first one, was going to be remarkably painful. From accounts she read she knew that while they never stopped hurting, they did get a bit easier the longer you were a werewolf. But not for the first one.

Once she was a wolf, due to her ingesting Wolfsbane every day for the past week, she would maintain complete control over her mind and actions. She could curl up in the nest of bedding and try to get as much sleep as she could. She knew that she would be in low levels of pain the entire night because it was her first time, but she was hopeful that it wouldn’t be overwhelming.

The following day she would feel very weak and a bit ill, but that should lessen as time goes on and be gone altogether in a couple of days. And then she would have a month until she did it all over again. And again. And again.

Shaking her head to try and rid herself of her negative thoughts, Hermione returned to her dialogue from earlier. “They’re safe. I’m safe. Not a monster.” She muttered this to herself on loop until she felt a low level of pain emanating from everywhere and realized that the transformation was starting.

The pain grew from a mild discomfort to a raging inferno in the span of a minute, and just when Hermione thought she couldn’t take anymore, she felt her bones crack. Screaming in pain as her bones broke and tendons snapped, Hermione had a passing thought that one of the firsthand accounts she read of the first transformation was accurate. “It feels like molten lava is running through your veins.”

Arching back as her spine broke and lengthened, Hermione felt every nerve ending in her body light on fire. And then, just as she processed that her scream had morphed into a howl, it was over.

She collapsed in a heap on the floor and panted as she slowly started to regain awareness of herself and her surroundings. Deciding to get it over with, Hermione awkwardly climbed onto her four limbs. She took a few steps around the room and found that as long as she didn’t overthink it, moving around was natural.

Her head was a bit lower than it was as a human, but not by much. Bracing herself, Hermione looked down at her front legs. Her fur was light grey, almost white, and her paws seemed a bit too large for her legs. Hermione realized that it must be because she’s still a kid, and that as she grows older her wolf should grow larger.

Gulping at the thought of becoming even larger and more dangerous, Hermione became aware of her face for the first time since transforming. She moved her tongue around her mouth and felt very long, very sharp teeth. Opening her jaws and snapping them shut a few times, Hermione took note of their power, which was a sombering thought.

She was powerful. These jaws, these teeth, could make anyone turn into a creature like her. Could kill anyone. Suddenly Hermione was filled with a flood of emotions and, before she even consciously knew what she was doing, tilted her head back and released a pained howl into the room.

As the sound echoed back to her sensitive canine ears, Hermione was struck by the realization that she understood what the howl meant. She knew from before that even though wolves don’t speak they still had their own forms of communication, but she never expected for a simple howl to sound so complex.

She heard her own pain, and sorrow, and fear. She heard her anger, and confusion, and self-hatred. And somehow, hearing it all laid out in one anguished howl was almost cathartic.

Tilting her head back, she let out another howl. And another and another until her throat was sore and her ears were ringing, and even then she let out a few more. Finally, feeling exhausted, she walked over to the nest and dropped down into it.

Her bones ached and her throat hurt, but as she lay there listening to Moonlight Sonata she was able to drift into a restless sleep. She woke up a few times whimpering from pain, but by shifting around she was able to fade back into unconsciousness.

As the sun rose across the castle grounds, Hermione shifted seamlessly back into a human. The pain, it would seem, only went one way. When she woke and went to roll over she was immediately aware of her human limbs.

Gasping and sitting up in her nest, Hermione looked down at herself and saw that she was, in fact, human. Jumping to her feet and taking a few steps just to make sure, Hermione was ecstatic. But then, as her muscles screamed at her from the sudden movement, Hermione remembered why werewolves don’t return to their normal lives the day after a full moon. Simply put, they feel bloody awful.

Groaning as she made her way over to her clothes, Hermione then slowly redressed. Wincing as she pulled her shirt over her head—her spine still felt rather sore—she was soon fully dressed. Walking over to the record player, she removed Moonlight Sonata and slid it back into the stack.

And then, looking only a bit worse for the wear, Hermione exited the Room of Requirement and made her way down to the kitchen for breakfast.


	11. Academic Pursuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus come to an agreement.

The month of August passed by in a blur as Hermione kept herself busy. She finished reading all of her school books, as well as many others, and was making great progress with potions and basic spells. Severus had even spent a few hours with her in his classroom brewing potions, an activity he was starting to thoroughly enjoy, even if it did just start as a way to let her use his stores.

Spending time with Hermione was much better than spending time with any of his other students. She was gifted and possessed a sharp intellect, and as the weeks went by he began to understand what Albus said about seeing similarities between himself and Hermione.

When Severus remembered that he was going to have to go back to teaching idiots like Ronald Weasley and Vincent Crabbe, who would be Second Years this term, he became very annoyed. Sometimes he truly wondered why he became an educator, but it was moments like this with Hermione that made him think that maybe dealing with all of the idiocy was worth it.

“Excellent work today, Hermione.” Severus had supervised Hermione’s brewing of the Confusing Concoction, and her results were some of the best he had ever seen from a student.

“Thank you.” Hermione was putting her books back in her bag and was happy to hear Severus’s praise. As the Potions Master, his praise was especially meaningful.

Severus pulled out his wand and said “Here, let me clean-up for you. It’ll be faster with magic.”

Hermione, who had just grabbed her wand from her bag for that same purpose, said “Oh no, it’s okay. I can do it.” She pointed her wand at the nearest cauldron and said “scourgify.”

Looking into the cauldron, Severus was astounded to see it not only empty, but sparklingly clean. As Hermione cleaned the other cauldron they had been using with just as much skill, Severus was astounded.

“Hermione…Where on earth did you learn to do that?”

Remembering what Albus had said once about not doing unsupervised spells, Hermione immediately realized her mistake in doing a spell in front of Severus. “Oh, um…I might’ve taught myself a few spells.” Hermione looked away from Severus, hoping he wasn’t too angry.

“You might have taught yourself…” Severus said in a serious tone that made Hermione shrink further into herself. “What other spells have you learned?”

“Well, I can do the Scouring Charm. I can levitate things fairly well now, and light and unlight my wand, and unlock doors, and I’ve turned a few matchsticks into needles…Oh, and I can summon small objects to me, but I’m still working on big ones.” Hermione spoke quickly, still scared of angering Severus because she did spells on her own, but even more scared of angering him by lying.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “Now, I’m just guessing here, but I’m assuming the Headmaster told you not to try any spells without supervision?”

“Technically,” Hermione stressed that word, “he told me not to perform anything potentially dangerous without supervision.”

“I see. With that warning you may have been able to get away with lumos, nox, and alohamora, but not the others. Really Hermione, did you not see how transfiguring objects and sending objects flying around the room without any training or supervision could be potentially dangerous?”

Hermione gulped, but she wasn’t giving up. “I suppose I can see how they could be dangerous, but I’m following the books and doing them all quite safely. I’m not taking any risks, honestly.”

Severus fixed her with a disbelieving stare. “Fine. If you want to appease me, show me.”

“I’m sorry?” Hermione thought she couldn’t have heard that right.

“Show. Me.”

Hermione still looked confused so Severus huffed in annoyance and said “Show me the spells you claim to be able to safely perform. Now.” Severus crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Hermione, waiting.

Rising to the challenge, Hermione gripped her pine wand with determination, drawing strength from the waves of confidence it was emitting. Deciding to start small she said “Lumos” and watched as the tip of her wand was illuminated. Leaving it for a few seconds, Hermione muttered “Nox” and watched as the light dissipated.

Deciding not to look at Severus lest his expression throw her off, Hermione moved on to the next spell. Pointing her wand at one of the cauldrons, Hermione said “Wingardium leviosa” and floated the cauldron to the ceiling before gently lowering it back down to its original position.

Looking around, Hermione didn’t see any matches, so instead she grabbed a pencil from her bag and set it on the table. Taking a moment to think of any modifications she needed to make to her casting, she then tapped the pencil with the tip of her wand and muttered the incantation. What she was left with was a perfectly formed metal knitting needle, though half of it was still made out of wood. Cursing herself, Hermione said “I’ve only ever done matchsticks to sewing needles, this was a bit new. I’ll get it next time though.”

Severus merely continued to watch her impassively and waited for her to do her next spell. Walking over to a closet she knew to be locked, Hermione tapped it with her wand and said “Alohamora,” watching in delight as the door swung open.

The only thing left was the summoning spell, which Hermione could easily do for small objects and could do about half of the time with large objects. Deciding to start small, Hermione raised her wand and said “accio knitting needle” and watched as the newly transfigured needle flew into her outstretched hand. Looking at Severus and still being unable to read his expression, Hermione sighed inwardly as she knew she needed to summon something larger to convince him of her sufficient skill to be safe.

Raising her wand again, she mentally reached out to it and asked if it was ready. It returned with feelings of excitement and anticipation, and Hermione spoke “accio stool” before any doubt had a chance to crawl its way into her mind. The stool she had been using earlier zoomed its way across the room and came to a skittering stop in front of her, forcing her to take a step back. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

Chancing a glance at Severus again, Hermione still couldn’t read him, so she asked “So? How’d I do? Do you think I’m good enough to be practicing alone?”

“I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, Hermione,” Hermione’s heart sank as she started anticipating bad news, but Severus continued and said “You performed all of those spells sufficiently, which is remarkable given the fact that you had no example or instruction.”

Hermione looked up at Severus hopefully, but her hope came crashing down as he said the next word. “But,” Severus maintained his serious expression, “just because you performed these spells adequately and safely does not mean that you can do so with any spell you come across. The Headmaster was not giving you a warning simply to impede your fun. Even simple spells can go very wrong if incorrectly performed.”

Hermione hung her head and shuffled her feet.

“Now, I don’t want you to think that your intellectual curiosity is wrong. In fact, if every student showed the drive you have to learn then my job would be much more rewarding and entertaining. No, you’re not being punished. We do, however, need to speak to the Headmaster and see if we can come up with some sort of compromise.”

“But what if he gets mad at me?”

“I’ve known Albus for many years, Hermione. I think that he is far more likely to find the circumstances of your disobedience amusing than he is to find them angering.”

Severus saw that Hermione still didn’t look up at him, so he said “But if it makes you feel any better, I am willing to defend your skill and your actions if he does rise to anger.”

Feeling a bit less apprehensive, Hermione looked up at Severus and saw him looking at her with a kind expression. Well, with a slightly less melancholy than normal expression.

“Are we going to talk to him now?”

“Yes. I hardly think it would do you any good to sit around and worry about it. Go ahead and put up the cauldrons—by hand—and then follow me.”

Hermione tucked her wand into her pocket, to its mild protests, and took the two trips required to put the cauldrons back in the closet. Then, grabbing her bag, she nervously followed Severus out of the classroom.

They walked in silence to Albus’s office, and Severus spoke the password “sherbet” to allow them entry. Riding the staircase to the top, Severus and Hermione were deposited into the office. Looking up from the book he was reading at his desk, Albus said “Well hello! This is a surprise. Severus, Hermione, what can I do for you?”

“I very recently made a few somewhat problematic discoveries about Hermione’s academic pursuits and I would like to propose a solution.”

“Problematic?” Albus arched an eyebrow and steepled his fingers. “Explain.”

“Of course. As we were cleaning up our workstation in my classroom this afternoon, Hermione performed a very thorough Scouring Charm on both cauldrons. I was, naturally, surprised, so I pursued a line of questioning about her spell casting abilities. Through that, I discovered that Hermione has been practicing in secret and has taught herself how to light and unlight her wand, unlock doors, transfigure small objects, levitate objects, and summon objects—all to fairly high degrees of success, I might add.”

“I see.” Albus had a thinly concealed smile under his beard. Turning to Hermione, he asked “Is this true Hermione? Did you teach yourself these spells in secret despite my instructions not to?”

Hermione summoned her courage and looked at Albus as she spoke. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Hermione thought for a moment. Why had she done it? “I guess…because I was curious. I mean, my books are all so fascinating, and my wand is always wanting to be used, and I just couldn’t resist.”

Albus smiled widely at her. “As far as reasons for breaking the rules go, I think intellectual curiosity is the best and most defensible of them all. Though, of course, that doesn’t mean I can just allow you to keep doing it.”

Turning to Severus, Albus asked, “Severus, I believe you offered a solution?”

“I did. My solution is that I be allowed to give Hermione private lessons to help sate some of her curiosity. I can safely introduce her to more advanced spells than she’ll be learning in her First Year courses, and I can ensure that she achieves a suitable skill level with them before she is allowed to practice on her own.”

“I see. And what, pray tell, do you get from this arrangement Severus?”

Severus scoffed. “A chance to teach something other than an idiot, for one. And I suppose a chance to teach something in addition to potions. As much as I love it, variety will be welcome.”

Albus nodded, satisfied with Severus’s given reasons (even though he suspected Severus’s growing attachment to Hermione was also a draw). “Hermione, does this sound like an amenable solution? You get to follow your curiosity, I get the reassurance of your safety, and Severus gets to teach a non-idiot.”

Hermione looked at Severus, wanting nothing more than to run over and hug him, but refraining. Instead she practically shouted “Yes! Absolutely!” and beamed at them both.

“Then it seems that your private lessons may proceed, Severus. When do you intend to start?”

“I was thinking of starting during the second week of September. The term starts in just over a week, so this will give Hermione some time to adjust to her new house and figure out just how extraordinarily unchallenging her courses are.” Severus had no doubt that the majority of them would be child’s play for this child.

“Well then, it seems we’re all set here. I expect regular visits and updates from both of you.”

Hermione vigorously nodded and Severus said “Of course."


	12. Start of Term

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the school arrive on September 1st.

A few days after that meeting was another full moon, but with as excited as Hermione was for school to start and for her meetings with Severus, it passed by with only slight negativity. The transformation itself was still extremely painful, but the rest of the night was much less uncomfortable and Hermione was able to sleep through the night. She knew that she wasn’t miraculously okay with being a werewolf now, but she was still grateful that she had at least a small reprieve.

Once that full moon was past, Hermione started packing for her move into the dormitories. She was sorely tempted to try out a few packing spells but ultimately managed to restrain herself. It had been less than a week since she agreed to only do spells Severus okayed her to do, and she wasn’t about to go back on her word so quickly.

So, packing all of her supplies and books into her trunk by hand, Hermione stepped back to admire her work. She had to Tetris a few books in there, but it all fit fairly well in the end. Now she just had one more task—setting a password.

Up until now she hadn’t bothered with it, but now that she was moving into an unprotected dorm with other kids, she thought it best to set one. But what should it be? Hermione raked through her brain for something that would be a suitable password, and finally after over an hour of thought she had it.

Walking over to her trunk, Hermione tapped it with her wand and said “Felix Felicis.” Hermione thought it was appropriate because with any luck nobody would ever guess it.

Hermione spent the last days before the rest of the students were set to arrive and term was to start in the library, reading mainly about the different houses and the sorting process. She had a strong feeling she would end up in Ravenclaw, but what interested her more than facts about that house was the Sorting Hat itself. She found several mentions of the Sorting Hat’s appearance and function, but none about how it actually worked. What sort of magic was it crafted from? How did the founders imbue it with their sorting criteria? Hermione spent the better part of the final two days thinking and wondering about the Sorting Hat.

When September 1st finally arrived, Albus explained how the day was going to go. “All of the students will arrive on the Hogwarts Express, which is a train that leaves out of King’s Cross, shortly before dinner. The older students will take the carriages to the school and then go sit at their respective house tables to await the sorting.”

“The First Years, however, will take the boats across the lake and then wait in the entry hall for Minerva to lead them in for the sorting. Minerva will come get you around 6, and you can walk down with her to join the other First Years. Make sure you’re wearing your school robes, and if you leave your trunk here the elves will deliver it to whatever house you get sorted into.”

Nodding along, Hermione said “Got it. It all sounds pretty straightforward.”

“Indeed.” Albus put his hand on Hermione’s shoulder and briefly squeezed and released. “This is an exciting night. I still remember my sorting, all these years later. Just take it all in, and you’ll be fine.”

Albus left her alone after that, and Hermione sat on her bed for a few hours reading. Before she knew it, though, Minerva was standing in her open door dressed in deep emerald robes and living up to her full potential of intimidating. But at Hermione she just smiled and asked “Are you ready, dear?”

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. “I think so. Let’s do this.”

Minerva led Hermione toward the entry hall, and as they got closer Hermione started hearing voices. As they reached a landing and stopped, Hermione realized it was coming from the Great Hall.

Then, after they had been on the landing for a few moments, Hermione saw a crowd of small, nervous looking children climbing the stairs toward her and Minerva. As the First Years stared at Minerva and Hermione, which was starting to make Hermione feel a bit uncomfortable, Minerva turned to Hermione and quietly spoke.

“Go ahead and join your classmates, dear.”

Hermione walked down a few steps and joined the first rank of her classmates. Just then, Minerva began what sounded like a well-practiced speech.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.”

“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Minerva’s gaze honed in on several wrinkled robes and crooked cloaks before saying “I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

With that, Minerva swept away toward the Great Hall to check if they were ready for the sorting. Hermione got a few curious glances for being a late arrival, but thankfully nobody started asking her questions. Actually, nobody spoke at all they were so nervous.

Hermione didn’t know whether books outside of the castle walls mentioned the Sorting Hat, and she didn’t want to ruin anyone’s surprise by talking about it, so she stayed silent. Of course, she was still intensely curious about how it functioned and hoped that it allowed her to ask a question or two before it sorted her.

Just then, Minerva came back and said “Now, form a line and follow me” and led them into the Great Hall. Hermione was taken aback by the long tables and floating candles, since she had only ever been in the hall when it had one small table. With all of the students and noise, the hall suddenly seemed much smaller.

Walking between two long tables, Minerva stopped next to the sorting hat on a stool and told the First Years to stop in front of her. She then stood and waited, and in a moment a long tear near the brim of the Sorting Hat opened like a mouth and it burst into song.

_A thousand years or more ago,  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known;_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;  
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide  
Their favorites from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gone?_

_'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  
He whipped me off his head  
The founders put some brains in me  
So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have to look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!_

The hall erupted into applause and the Sorting Hat bent its tip down as though it were taking a bow. When the applause died down and some of the First Years breathed sighs of relief at learning they were only going to have to put on a hat, Minerva addressed them again. “Now when I call your name you shall come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.”

And without further ado, she started calling names.

“Flora Carrow”

A slim, pale girl of eleven walked up and sat on the stool waiting for Minerva to place the hat on her head. Hermione knew that Carrow was one of the Sacred Twenty Eight families, and so was not surprised when the hat screamed “Slytherin” after barely touching her head.

As Flora walked to the Slytherin table, Minerva called the next name on the list.

“Hestia Carrow”

A girl who could be nothing other than Flora’s identical twin walked up to the stool. Again, the hat shouted “Slytherin” after less than a second’s hesitation. This just made Hermione more curious as to the hat’s abilities. Was it using Legilimency to read students minds? How was it able to decide so quickly? Part of her suspected she may never find out, but another part was set on trying anyway.

“Colin Creevey”

The hat took a little bit longer to decide with Colin, but still in under ten seconds it loudly proclaimed “Gryffindor!” Hermione was lost in her thoughts about the Sorting Hat, so she nearly missed when her name was called a couple after Colin.

“Hermione Granger”

Minerva gave Hermione a small smile of encouragement as she walked to the stool and sat. Hermione knew that she was overwhelmingly a Ravenclaw, but she didn’t want her time with the hat to end before it even began.

So as Minerva lowered the hat toward her head, she reached out to it in the same way she reached out to the wands and tried to grab some form of intelligence. Immediately she felt something, and latching onto it as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head she mentally cried “Wait!”

“Well well, what do we have here?” the Sorting Hat spoke into her mind.

“Please, I just wanted to have a brief discussion with you before you finish the sorting.”

“Hmm. Immense talent, inner demons, aptitude for new magics, insatiable curiosity…and an ability to communicate with wands, and some other semi-sentient objects like myself. I daresay for someone as fascinating as you I’ll happily oblige.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione decided that it would be easier to send her vague thoughts to the hat instead of trying to articulate questions. Tapping into the thin thread connecting her to the hat, she poured all of her curiosity and confusion into it.

The hat released a laugh in her head. “Oh, you just want to learn my entire history and all of my secrets, is that all?”

Hermione blushed, and the hat continued. “As you already suspect, I cannot possibly tell you all of my secrets. Not only would that take a hundred years, but I am bound by the founders not to reveal certain things.”

“I will briefly tell you what I can, though. Yes, I use a form of Legilimency to dip into student’s minds. I was created by mostly mental magic from the four founders, and as such I possess nearly all of their memories and selecting criteria for students. Sorting used to take a bit longer in my first hundred years of use, but seeing as how very few students are truly exceptional, I learned to recognize patterns and can now sort most students in under a minute...”

Hermione listened to the Sorting Hat go on for several minutes and learned a lot of interesting things. When they reached a natural lull, she articulated her next thought. “What if someone embodies attributes of more than one house?”

“Well, first I’ll say that no student is purely one house. You are all a mix of different attributes and traits, and what I do is recognize which house traits are more dominant. Sometimes, though, more than one house are extremely close together in leading traits for a student. When that happens I will take the student’s preference into account if they have one, and if not I will assign them based on which founder I think would have fought harder for them. You see, before I was created the founders would often argue over students like that. More than one skirmish broke out as a result.”

The hat’s reference to its origins made Hermione remember its incredible age. “Do you get bored? I mean, only getting out once a year and having nobody to talk to?”

The hat answered her in an amused tone. “Yes, my existence is sometimes boring, but I have so many memories and thoughts that I can occupy myself well enough. And besides, I get to spend all year composing my next song. I know you already heard this year’s, but do you want to hear last year’s too?”

Since Hermione sensed that the hat wanted someone to take interest in its creative endeavors, and since she genuinely did want to hear the song, she enthusiastically agreed. The song started up in her mind, and she listened intently.

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowler's black-  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave of heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your true friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

“That was incredible! Did they give you a standing ovation? It would be a crime if they didn’t.”

“I got a fair bit of applause, but I’m afraid not everyone is as appreciative or flattering as you.”

“Well then they’re lacking in judgement.” Hermione said lightheartedly, but the mention of the rest of the student body made her remember that she was currently sitting in front of them. “Erm, I kind of forgot this was supposed to be a sorting. Have you ever stayed on someone’s head this long? How long has it been?”

Chuckling, the Sorting Hat said “Yes, despite me having no issue in sorting you into your house, I think you just set the record for the longest sorting ever. We’ve been talking for nearly thirty minutes. Or is it thinking for nearly thirty minutes?” 

Hermione thought of the term “hatstall.”

“To the outside world you will be labelled a hatstall, but seeing as how we have been having a pleasant conversation and I have no question that you’re a Ravenclaw I’m not going to count it. True hatstalls, where I take longer than five minutes to decide which house someone ends up in, are rare. Probably every fifty years or so. Your Deputy Headmistress was my last true stall.”

“Minerva was a hatstall?”

“Yes, it took me five minutes and thirty seconds to decide where she belonged. She embodies both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw attributes quite well. In the end, though, she preferred Gryffindor. And she did quite well there.”

“Would I do well anywhere else?”

“You will do by far the best in Ravenclaw, but yes, I think you would hold up adequately in another house.”

“Which one?” Hermione was curious what traits the Sorting Hat thought she had.

“Purely based on attributes I would say Slytherin. You are ambitious and have a clear desire to prove yourself—to your mother, to those with werewolf prejudice, and to yourself. Your status as a muggle born wouldn’t make you any friends in that house though, so you would need to keep that a secret or accept their prejudice. You also hold a few Gryffindor attributes, mainly bravery. You are incredibly brave, even though I know you don’t always see it. But Gryffindor wouldn’t support your intellectual curiosity, in fact they might actively shun you for it.”

“I see. But I don’t have any Hufflepuff?”

“Remember, everyone has some of everything, so you do have a bit of Hufflepuff in you. You need interesting, flawed people in your life though. Hufflepuffs are fierce and accepting friends, but you need people with a few more sharp edges to them if you know what I mean.”

Thinking of how her muggle classmates always seemed so two dimensional, Hermione nodded. “I think I do. Will I find those people in Ravenclaw? Will I finally make friends?”

“You certainly have the potential to do so, but until you can learn to accept yourself you’re going to have a hard time forming lasting relationships. Though of course, the right people just might be able to break down some of those walls.”

“How am I supposed to accept myself? I’m a monster. Everyone will see me as a monster.”

“I know you don’t have a lot of reason to have faith in humanity, but I think you’ll be surprised by the caliber of some people. There are definitely a few people that I’ve sorted in the past couple of years who have minds you would find…three dimensional.”

“And I’ve sorted monsters, child. Believe me, you are not one.”

Hermione sat for a minute or two digesting what the hat told her before remembering once again that she was sitting in front of the entire school. “How long has it been now?”

“We just passed the thirty minute mark. In all of my history I’ve never had one go past twenty, so you’re about to cause a stir.” The Sorting Hat sounded amused.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. What if they don’t think I’m an actual Ravenclaw?”

Once again sounding amused, the Sorting Hat communicated “After the first class with you I don’t think anyone will be able to doubt your placement. You forget I can see into your mind, which already possesses the contents of all of your textbooks, among other things. You are curious and intelligent, just don’t shut everyone out and you’ll be fine.”

Nodding and feeling the hat rock forward and backward on her head, Hermione smiled. “Then I guess you had better do your dramatic yelling thing and tell everyone I’m a Ravenclaw.”

“What? No more questions?”

Opening her mind to all of her questions about the hat, Hermione thought “I have a million questions, but I don’t think you’d be willing to answer any of them.”

“Ah, yes. Those ones I’m afraid I can’t answer. Though maybe I can bend the rule a little bit and give you one piece of advice and one piece of information.”

Hermione gripped the edge of the stool anxiously.

“My advice for you right now is to build relationships, especially with Severus. His mind is similar to yours and he will be a good mentor to you. Be patient with him though—he has many of the same issues you do.”

“And my information is that all humans are grey, Hermione. It is the nature of humanity to possess both good and bad. And, though I suppose this is another piece of advice, know that if you spend your life trying to make yourself or others fit into one box you will only serve to bring yourself unhappiness.”

“And now, seeing as we’re decisively over thirty minutes into your ‘sorting,’ I think it’s time we get on with the thing.”

Hermione nodded and whispered “thank you,” somehow feeling like it needed to be said aloud.

“Yes yes, alright. Come see me again in a few years, but for now it had better be… RAVENCLAW!”

The hat boomed out for the entire hall to hear, and Hermione laughed. Before being pulled off of Hermione’s head by Minerva, the hat thought “I know, I know—dramatic. Don’t begrudge an old hat one of its simple pleasures.”

As Minerva removed the hat and Hermione could once again see the hall, she found it full of confused and awed faces. The only ones who were applauding were the majority of the Ravenclaw table and most of the high table. Hermione caught Albus’s eye as she glanced behind her, and the knowing twinkle in his gaze told her that he suspected the reason for her long sorting.

Turning back to Minerva, Hermione stepped forward to give her a hug but then stopped when she remembered they were in front of the entire school and she hadn’t discussed professional boundaries with her yet. But Minerva closed the distance and gave her a quick hug anyway, whispering in her ear “You can tell them we’re family. And you’re definitely going to have to swing by my office this week and tell me what that was all about.” Minerva released Hermione and gestured toward the hat.

Hermione smiled at Minerva and said “We just had a nice conversation, nothing major.”

Minerva arched an eyebrow and incredulously repeated “nothing major” and shook her head. “Go join your house, Hermione.”

Giving Minerva a parting smile, Hermione turned and walked to the Ravenclaw table where a lot of them were still clapping. As she took her seat, several of her classmates came over and clapped her on the back and introduced themselves.

“I’m Angela, and that was incredible. Longest hatstall ever!”

“Luke. Good to have you in our house.”

“How on Earth did you get McGonagall to like you already?”

Hermione smiled at that one, and remembering what Minerva said, replied “She’s family.”

The talking died down as more students were being sorted, and the next First Year to end up in Ravenclaw was a small blonde girl named Luna Lovegood. Luna sat across from Hermione, and Hermione found herself thinking that she was one of the strangest girls she had ever seen. She had radishes hanging from her ears, which Hermione was fairly certain was not allowed in the dress code, and had a gaze that was at once faraway and piercing. Remembering what the hat told her about interesting people, Hermione grinned. She already liked her.

Hermione loudly clapped along with everyone else when anyone was sorted into Ravenclaw, and politely clapped when someone was sorted into another house. When another Sacred Twenty Eight stepped up to be sorted, a boy named Harper Selwyn, Hermione wasn’t shocked to hear him end up in Slytherin.

The last First Year to be sorted was Ginerva Weasley, and Hermione was very surprised to see this Sacred Twenty Eight wind up in Gryffindor. Looking at the rest of the Gryffindor table and seeing several shocks of red hair that greeted Ginerva enthusiastically, however, Hermione concluded that the Weasley family didn’t hold to the strict pure blood beliefs. Interesting.

After Ginerva Weasley found her seat and the hall quieted down, Albus climbed to his feet to make the start of term announcements.

“Welcome!” he said. “Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” Smiling widely, he finished with “Thank you!” and sat back down.

Clapping and cheering along with everyone else, Hermione laughed at Albus’s eccentric tendencies. She wouldn’t be surprised if those four words had some deep symbolic meaning, but she decided not to dwell on it and instead to enjoy the banquet.

Food magically appeared on the table, which Hermione was used to by now, but the sheer amount of food was surprising. Each of the long house tables was piled high with mountains of food, and the smells all made Hermione’s mouth water.

Making her own miniature mountain on her plate, Hermione decided to start with the roast potatoes first. As she was chewing, the girl who had asked her about Minerva turned to her again and asked “So Professor McGonagall is a family member? That’s awesome, she’s wicked smart.”

Hermione chuckled. “Yeah, we’re pretty close. And she definitely is!”

Someone else, who Hermione would later learn was Daniel the prefect, jumped in and said “Crazy though. Two hatstalls in one family? Your bloodline must just be hard to sort.”

Before Hermione could respond, Luna, the small blonde that intrigued Hermione, spoke up. “They both definitely have complex minds, but Hermione wasn’t hard to sort. She was just having a lovely conversation with the hat.” While Luna spoke she never lost the dreamy quality to her voice, though her eyes were intelligent and piercing.

A bit shocked that Luna knew that, Hermione gave a brief laugh and said “Something like that, yeah.”

The comment wasn’t pursued by their classmates, and instead they all fell into casual conversation as they ate. When asked about her family, Hermione confessed to never knowing her father, but she didn’t trust them enough to tell them about her mother or her abusive childhood. Sensing an opening though, Hermione subtly implied that she was related to Minerva through her father’s side of the family. She left it purposefully vague and quickly changed the subject though.

Being a group of Ravenclaws, however, the tide of the conversation eventually found its way to academics. Hermione said she had already read her books, but she didn’t want to seem like a braggart or give away her home life, so she didn’t mention her work with Severus or her raiding of the Hogwarts library over the past two months.

Hermione found that she wasn’t the only First Year who had read her books already, and the upperclassmen were happy to tell them what they would be learning as First Years. Listening to what they were saying, Hermione found herself a bit disappointed that they would be doing such basic magic. But then she remembered that she only had to wait until the second week to start her private lessons with Severus and she cheered up.

Halfway through the feast, an excited chattering swept through the Great Hall and Hermione turned in time to see four ghosts come in through the back wall. Hermione had seen them all at one point or another during her castle exploration, but she had never actually gotten a close look or engaged them in conversation.

The only thing the ghosts had in common was their silver translucent appearance—outside of that they were all extremely different. One of the ghosts, who glided over to the Hufflepuff table and started happily greeting the First Years, was a rather portly friar. Another, who made his way to the Gryffindor table, looked like a fifteenth century aristocrat with his ruff and tights. Hermione watched, amused, as he appeared to heave a sigh and then grab his hair and tilt his head to one side. Noticing her watching, one of her classmates said “That’s Sir Nicholas, but most of the students call him Nearly Headless Nick due to his somewhat botched decapitation.”

The third ghost was truly terrifying. He had a sorrowful expression and haunted eyes, but the most alarming thing was that he was wrapped in heavy chains and covered in silver blood stains. Hermione watched unsurprised as that ghost made his way over to the Slytherin table, and found it funny when he sat next to Harper Selwyn and some blonde Second Year boy, making each of them lean away uncomfortably.

The last ghost, who made her way over to the Ravenclaw table, was devastatingly beautiful and oddly familiar. She was wearing a dress, a floor length cloak, and had hair that hung to her waist. As the ghost drew closer to where Hermione sat, Daniel loudly proclaimed “Everyone, I present you with the ghost of Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady.”

The Grey Lady turned her nose up a bit at the name, but seemed to enjoy the attention as people politely clapped. “Who did we get this year?” she asked while glancing around the table.

Daniel was the first to speak up and started introducing the First Years, who each waved or nodded politely at the Grey Lady when Daniel said their name. Daniel saved Hermione for last, and he said “And this, my lady, is Hermione Granger. I need to double check, but I believe she is the longest hatstall in history.”

Hermione raised her hand in greeting as the Grey Lady looked more closely at her. “Interesting. How long was it?”

Daniel responded “Nearly thirty five minutes, by my count.”

As the Grey Lady continued to look appraisingly at Hermione, Hermione suddenly realized why she had looked familiar when she first glided into the hall. If the portrait she had come across during her school exploration was accurate, Hermione was fairly certain that she was looking at Helena Ravenclaw. Hermione and Helena held each other’s gaze for a moment, and Helena spoke first.

“I’m sure a mind as complex as yours will be a benefit to the proud tradition of Ravenclaw.”

“Thank you, my lady. I will certainly try to be a credit to the legacy of your family.”

Helena looked shocked and impressed at Hermione’s subtle admission of knowing her identity, but all she did was offer a brief nod and glide further down the table.

Daniel turned to ask Hermione what that was all about, but she just shook her head and he let it go. If Helena didn’t want people to know who she was, Hermione wasn’t going to be the one to go against those wishes. She may not know why Helena wasn’t forthcoming about her parentage, but she was no stranger to secrets herself.

Glancing up at the enchanted ceiling, Hermione looked at the waxing crescent moon and sighed. The ceiling of the Great Hall was beautiful, of course, but it also made her very aware of her never ending cycle of transformations. Each night the moon grew larger, the ticking clock in her mind grew louder.

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the food disappear and a hush spread across the hall. Looking up startled when Albus began speaking, Hermione brought her thoughts back to reality.

“Ahem—I just have a few more words not that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you.”

“First Years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.” Hermione suppressed an involuntary shudder at the mention of the forest. “And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

Albus’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table, and Hermione was intrigued to see all of the Grffindors look toward tall, gangly, red headed twins. Probably Weasleys. Hermione tried to make a mental note to ask Albus about both the Weasley’s peculiarities as a Sacred Twenty Eight family, and about the trouble making twins. She imagined it was a very good story.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridor. We all know how dangerous unsupervised magic can be.” This time his gaze settled on Hermione, who had the decency to smile and look down.

“And finally, quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Albus excitedly yelled out. Looking at the rest of the high table, Hermione noticed that most of the professors’ smiles had become rather fixed and Severus even openly rolled his eyes.

Hermione had learned the song from “Hogwarts: A History,” but wasn’t sure how it sounded out loud. Her unspoken question was answered when Albus said “Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!”

The school collectively sung out:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they’re bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we’ve forgot,  
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot._

Since everybody chose their own tune, nobody finished at the same time. Some kids seemed to have sung it as fast as they could, but most people chose a moderately upbeat tune and finished between thirty seconds and one minute. Most people, of course, excluding those Weasley twins that seemed to have a reputation for trouble. They continued singing for nearly a full minute after everyone else had stopped, seeing as how they chose a very slow funeral march. Albus used his wand to conduct the last few lines himself, and when they finished with a morose “rot,” he was one of the ones who clapped loudest. Hermione was amused to see Minerva roll her eyes from her position behind Albus.

“Ah, music,” Albus said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Daniel stood up and loudly said “First Years, follow me!”

Hermione joined the crowd of Ravenclaw First Years out of the hall and followed Daniel through the castle. One day during July Hermione had accidentally discovered the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. She had been attempting to find the highest point in Hogwarts when she came upon a door with a bronze, eagle shaped door knocker. Despite wanting to go in, Hermione knew that she would have been disappointed if she had ruined the magic of her sorting night so she managed to restrain herself.

As all of the First Years followed Daniel through hidden passages and up stairs, they started yawning and dragging their feet. It had been a long day, and now, stomachs full and nerves settled, the weariness was beginning to set in. Hermione found herself very glad that she had found the entrance to Ravenclaw tower and had lived in the castle for the summer, because otherwise she would have had no idea how to get back to the Great Hall in the morning—let alone to her classes.

Finally arriving at the door with the eagle knocker, Daniel turned to address the assembled First Years. “We do not have a password to enter our common room, instead we must answer a logic question. If you cannot come up with a sufficient answer, you must wait until someone else comes along and answers it correctly. That way you learn.”

Turning and giving the knocker one sharp bang, the eagle opened its mouth and asked “What came first, the phoenix or the flame?”

Daniel smiled at the First Years and asked “Do any of you want to give this question a go?”

Luna stepped forward before anyone else and gazed thoughtfully at the knocker. “I think…the answer is that a circle has no beginning.”

“Well reasoned” the knocker replied, and the door swung open to reveal the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Hermione’s first impression of the Common Room was air. It was a large circular room with high arched windows set into the walls, and there were blue and bronze silks flowingly draped around them. Though she couldn’t see the view from the windows at that moment, she had no doubt that when the sun was up she would have an excellent view of the school grounds.

There were tables and chairs scattered around the spacious room, some of which looked perfect for communal studying and others for solitary work. Hermione’s favorite part of the room, though, was the number of bookshelves that were scattered around it.

The bookcase that stood out to her immediately was the massive one set in what looked like the exact center of the room. It went floor to ceiling, which was well above where anyone could reach without magic, and was overflowing with stacks of books haphazardly placed. There were facets of it facing in every direction around the room, and in a few places it looked like additional shelves had been added on. At the top of this huge bookcase were the words “Wit Beyond Measure—The Ravenclaw Legacy.”

Daniel noticed all of the First Years focus on the centerpiece of the room and smiled, remembering his first time seeing it. “That is one of Ravenclaw’s best kept secrets, and as members of the Ravenclaw House you are now all expected to keep it. This bookcase is what we call the Legacy, and it’s where each Seventh Year has been placing a copy of their favorite book for hundreds of years. One day, six years from now, you yourselves will be adding your book to a shelf and joining the esteemed Legacy of Ravenclaw…” Daniel gave a small laugh. “But for now, you’ll be going to bed.”

Gesturing to two staircases set to each side of a large marble Rowena Ravenclaw statue, Daniel said “Boys are up the stairs to the left, girls to the right. For all of you, First Year dorms will be the first door you come to. Despite my many protests, you all get the least stairs to climb. My classmates apparently think the stairs are worth it for the view.” Daniel shook his head in frustration, “As if a few floors makes that much of a difference in the view from this high up.”

The First Years started hesitantly moving toward the staircases, unsure if Daniel was done, but stopped abruptly when he said “Oh, one more thing! If a boy attempts to go up the girls’ staircase, an alarm will sound and he will get pitched off. It’s all very unpleasant.” Daniel made a pained face that made it seem like he was speaking from personal experience.

“However, girls are allowed to go to the boys’ dorms with no consequences. We can’t do anything about the alarm, even though many of us have tried, but here in Ravenclaw we think the entire forced separation between boys and girls is stupid. So while we encourage you to sleep in your own dorm, feel free to have get togethers or study sessions in the boys’ dorm. You won’t be punished.”

“And on that note, I think you’ve all had far too much information shoved at you for one evening, so go on up to bed. Your trunks are already at the foot of your bed, but you may switch beds at any time if everyone agrees.”

The First Years started moving towards the stairs once again, feeling the tiredness sink into their very bones. As they started climbing the stairs, they heard Daniel yell “Oh! And be down here by 7 if you’d like an escort to the Great Hall for breakfast. It’s a bit of a confusing walk.”

Chuckling because she knew exactly how to get to the Great Hall, Hermione continued climbing the stairs to her new room. The First Year girls all filed through the first door and walked into a room with five four poster beds with heavy deep blue curtains. Their trunks were already set at the foot of each bed, and seeing hers at the far end of the room, Hermione made her way over to her bed.

The room had one large window at the far end, so Hermione’s bed was right next to it. As the other girls started opening their trunks and pulling out their pajamas, Hermione was struck with two terrifying thoughts.

The first was how was she supposed to change in front of them without them seeing her scars? Most of her self-inflicted scars were luckily fairly light and couldn’t be seen unless someone was specifically looking for them or were really close, but her werewolf bite was raised, red, and very noticeable against her pale skin. And she had read that it would never go away.

The second thought was that, with only five people in the same room, they would all have questions about why she spent one night per month outside of the dorm. And being Ravenclaws, they would also likely notice that her absence always fell on the full moon.

To solve the first problem, Hermione unlocked her trunk with a whispered “Felix Felicis” and brought her pajamas to the side of her bed facing the wall. She shut her curtains, which cut off the view from two of the other beds and most of the room, and turned the side with the worst scarring away from the room. Quickly changing, she didn’t notice anyone looking at her for too long, and as soon as she was in her pajamas she hopped in her bed.

That wasn’t the perfect solution, but for short notice it worked. Hermione made a mental note to think of other options, like maybe waking up before everyone or changing in the bathroom. She’d rather have the girls think she was a bit shy than figure out she’s a werewolf.

That thought, along with the sight of the nearly half full moon from the window before she yanked the curtains closed, made Hermione remember her second thought—the necessary absences and fear of discovery. She needed to talk to one of her professors.

On those unpleasant thoughts, Hermione laid down and fell into a fitful sleep.


	13. Breakfast

Being her first night in a new place, and being plagued by incessant worries, it was no surprise to Hermione that she woke up well before she needed to. After spending a few minutes trying unsuccessfully to go back to sleep, she heaved a sigh and got out of bed. Looks like she was going to breakfast early.

Moving silently about the dormitory, Hermione had used the washroom, changed into her school robes, and grabbed her bag in just a few minutes. Glancing at her wristwatch, Hermione saw that it was just after 0600. Grabbing “Hogwarts: A History” and tossing it into her bag along with her textbooks, Hermione figured she could pass some time rereading parts of it over breakfast.

Nodding her head, satisfied that she had everything she needed, Hermione exited the dorm room and went down the stairs into the Common Room. Walking by the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and into the main part of the Common Room, Hermione took a moment to look out of the windows. In the low light of sunrise she could tell that her assumption from the night previous had been correct—the view was spectacular.

From Ravenclaw tower you could see the Forbidden Forest, a side of the room she pointedly avoided, the lake, the Quidditch pitch, and the rest of the Hogwarts grounds. Smiling in spite of the rough start to her morning, Hermione realized that she could picture herself making this room home.

After spending a couple of minutes taking in the view, Hermione turned and walked out of the empty Common Room and toward the Great Hall. She had only made it through one hidden door, however, when she happened upon the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw.

Unsure if she should address her, Hermione’s question was answered when Helena addressed her first. “Hermione, is it? Do you need assistance in getting to the Great Hall?”

Touched that Helena went out of her way to help Ravenclaws in trouble, Hermione smiled and shook her head. “No. I’ve been living in the castle since the end of June. I’ve got it all pretty well mapped out by now.”

Raising her eyebrows, Helena gave Hermione a surprised look. “Since June? Why? And why have I not seen you before now?”

“I guess our paths just didn’t cross. I think I saw you from a distance a few times, but I didn’t want to be a bother so I didn’t approach.” Hermione gestured for Helena to glide along with her on her walk, and they kept talking.

“Ah, yes. I always imagined ghosts would be a bit intimidating to new students. Hogwarts is the most haunted dwelling in Britain today, but when I was a new student we didn’t yet have a single ghost.”

Helena turned to look at Hermione then. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, Hermione, but why were you here so far before the term started?”

Hermione had expected the question as soon as she said she had been in the castle since June, but still wasn’t sure how much she should reveal. “There was…an incident, and my mother disowned me and kicked me out of her house. Minerva and Albus were there through it all to help me, and allowed me to come stay at Hogwarts.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate, I’m very sorry for you. I ran away from my mother’s home once, back when I was a member of the living. It’s not the same as being kicked out, of course, but it took some time to adjust to not having a mother’s presence.”

Knowing Helena was just trying to be helpful, Hermione tried not to scoff. It really wasn’t the same thing. “My mother is a terrible woman who spent the first half of my life physically abusing me and the second half neglecting me, so I’m pretty well used to not having a motherly presence by now.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any anger or unpleasantness, it truly was not my intention. You sound like you are a survivor, though, and for that I am grateful to have you in my mother’s house.”

They arrived to the Great Hall just then, and Hermione stopped to look at Helena and decided to ask the question that had been bothering her. “Helena, why doesn’t anyone know who you are?”

Helena smiled sadly down at Hermione and said “A few of the professors do…but yes, I see what you mean. Why don’t I tell my own house that I am the daughter of their esteemed founder?”

She looked away for a second as if collecting her thoughts. “In my life I wronged my mother. I was jealous of her reputation and her cleverness, and I was arrogant. So very arrogant. In my stupidity I took something that she prized above all else, believing that it would make me finally better than her.”

Helena shook her head sadly and looked back at Hermione. “But, of course, it didn’t. Even when she was on her death bed I could not return and face her. That is one of my largest regrets. So to answer your question, Hermione, I suppose I haven’t revealed my identity or heritage because I don’t feel worthy of being called a Ravenclaw. I am a dark spot on my mother’s legacy, unworthy of her name.”

Hermione would have reached out to touch Helena’s arm had she been solid, but instead she looked seriously at Helena and said “You did something terrible, and you’ve spent 1,000 years trapped in this form, paying for it. I’m not the best person to be giving mental health advice, believe me, but I think you should stop torturing yourself. You’re no longer the person who wronged your mother—you’ve had 1,000 years to grow and change. If you’re not ready to be known as Helena Ravenclaw, that’s alright, but maybe you could start with just Helena?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, I’m not the best person to be giving this advice, but you should think about it at least.”

Nodding her head, Helena looked lost in thought. She said “Thank you, Hermione. You’ve certainly given me much to think about. Good luck with your first day.”

As Helena glided away, Hermione walked through the threshold of the Great Hall and made her way toward the Ravenclaw table.

There were a handful of early risers scattered around the Great Hall, most it seemed with the same idea as Hermione to bring a book and enjoy a quiet morning before the rush of the first day. Hermione sat at the end of Ravenclaw table closest to the high table and placed a few food items onto her plate. After buttering her scone and taking a bite, she pulled “Hogwarts: A History” out of her bag, flipped to the section on architecture, and began to read.

_“Internal architecture (for external architecture see page 495):_

_The architecture of Hogwarts is, for many a new student, a confusing affair. Created by the four founders—Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor—as a way to instruct students in spatial awareness and adaptability, the interior of Hogwarts is said by many to have taken on a life of its own._

_Hogwarts has one hundred fourty-two stair cases, but one could easily miscount with the tendency they have to move. Some staircases are wide, sweeping ones made of marble or stone, as was preferred by Salazar Slytherin. Others are narrow, rickety ones that test each student’s daring, as preferred by Godric Gryffindor. Then there are those that are neither grand nor shabby, but are steadfast and tend not to change their destinations, as preferred by Helga Hufflepuff. And finally, arguably the most confusing of the lot, are those designed by Rowena Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw believed in continually testing intelligence, so she created staircases of varying design that are known to frequently change direction and have vanishing steps._

_Ask any Hogwarts alum and you’re sure to hear tales of the terrifying swaying steps of Godric Gryffindor or the irksome directionally fluid steps of Rowena Ravenclaw, but as the years go by many of those tales turn to fondness. For as frustrating as those staircases are, they did exactly as the founders intended—tested the students and forced them to rely on each other._

_Similar to the staircases are the doors. Some doors are perfectly normal, but others are troublesome at best—problem is, you can’t tell which is which just by looking at them. Many doors are prideful and won’t open unless you ask politely, and then there are those that require you to tickle them in the right spot or tap a unique pattern on them with your wand. Then, of course, are the doors that aren’t really doors at all, but solid walls pretending._

_All in all, the internal architecture of Hogwarts is far more complicated than a first glance would reveal, and that’s not even taking into account the rumoured secret passages and chambers._

_For more on unconfirmed architectural features, see page 515.”_

Not seeing a point in reading about the Room of Requirement again when she had been inside the real thing, Hermione turned to the section on the History of International Relations and began to read again about the Triwizard Tournament.

_“The Triwizard Tournament was established in 1296 as a friendly magical contest  
between the three largest wizarding schools of Europe: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Held every two years at its beginning, but every five years eventually, the competition would be hosted by each school in turn. The judges for the Tournament comprised of the headmasters or headmistresses of the schools._

_To date there have been 175 editions of the Tournament—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has 63 wins, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic has 62, and Durmstrang Institute trails with 49._

_Each school was represented by one Champion. Champions were selected by a magical artifact referred to as the Goblet of Fire, which used strict judging criteria to select only the bravest and most intelligent competitors from each school. Selected Champions compete in three tasks — traditionally judged by the Headmasters or Headmistresses of the competing schools — designed to test magical ability, intelligence and courage. For a full list of historical tasks, see page 980._

_Being selected as a champion was a great honour, and winning the tournament even more so—for both the Champion and the school. The honour and glory came with a high degree of risk though, and the tournament was discontinued in 1792 due to the mounting death toll and the injury of all three judges in the Second Task of that year. For a full account of the debacle of the Triwizard Tournament of 1792, see facing page.”_

Hermione looked across to the facing page and began rereading the hilarious account of the 1792 Triwizard Tournament, which involved a rampaging cockatrice injuring all three judges. Before she could get too far into it, however, the seats around her were very suddenly occupied.

Looking up in surprise, Hermione found herself face to face with the other four Ravenclaw girl First Years—Luna, Suzanne, Gwendoline, and Martine. Suzanne, who Hermione would later learn was a muggle born like herself, spoke first. “We were worried when we didn’t see you this morning, what’s up?”

Unable to shake the feeling that they were all playing a trick on her, based on her previous experiences with girls her own age, Hermione felt a little defensive and said “Nothing” in a curt tone.

Suzanne mumbled “sorry” and the table fell into an awkward silence before Hermione sighed and mentally kicked herself. These girls weren’t like Sydney and the others, and she couldn’t start off by treating them like that.

“Look…I’m sorry. I’m feeling a bit defensive right now. To answer your question, I was up around 6 and couldn’t go back to sleep…” Hermione trailed off and looked away. “I don’t really sleep well, as a general rule.”

Suzanne looked surprised at her sudden confession, but immediately smiled and tried to put her at ease. “Oh, okay! No big deal, we were just worried you would get lost or something.”

Hermione smiled back, appreciating the effort Suzanne was making to smooth over her rudeness. She was about to change the topic to their classes when Martine jumped in and asked “How did you find your way down here?”

Martine was eyeing Hermione a bit suspiciously, and Hermione decided to just tell the truth. Or part of it, anyway. “I’ve been in the castle for a little over two months now. I know my way around pretty well now.”

Arching an eyebrow, Martine asked “Why?” and kept looking at Hermione like she was a puzzle to solve. It wasn’t malicious, but it definitely made Hermione appreciate all of the people who had ever been on the receiving end of her Ravenclaw curiosity.

“Something happened and I very suddenly found myself without a home. It’s quite painful to remember and not really something I want to talk about.” Hermione’s voice conveyed some of the pain she felt and she was alarmed to find her eyes filling with tears. Martine, apparently not sensing the impending tears, just said “Oh come on, you can tell us. What happened?”

Hermione stayed silent, and cursing her eyes for not listening to her, looked away from the table and tried desperately not to cry. Thinking that maybe her fitful sleep was affecting her more than she thought, Hermione debated leaving the table immediately but then remembered that she had to wait for her Head of House to bring her her schedule.

Still not looking at the other girls and trying to think of a way to escape, Hermione felt a tear fall and started panicking. She just kept hearing her mother telling her to get out and not come back running on a loop in her mind, and she was terrified of crying in front of everyone. Looking around, Hermione saw Minerva walk in from the staff entrance behind the high table with a rather small wizard next to her, each holding a stack of papers.

Grabbing her bag and quickly walking, nearly running away, from the table, Hermione made a beeline for Minerva and this unknown wizard. She felt a few tears make their way down her face and she furiously wiped at her eyes, hoping nobody was looking. This was ridiculous, she was fine just five minutes ago and now she was about to start crying in the middle of the Great Hall.

Minerva caught sight of Hermione making her way over to her, and she was alarmed to see the tears on her face. Fearing another breakdown, Minerva quickly asked Filius Flitwick, the short wizard she was with, to hand out her schedules for her. As an afterthought she also grabbed Hermione’s schedule from his stack.

This was all accomplished before Hermione reached them, and when Hermione did reach them they were still close to the high table. Minerva wrapped Hermione in a brief hug and pulled her toward the staff door she had just come out of, not wanting the entire student body to see Hermione crying.

Casting a glance backward at the Ravenclaw table, Minerva saw Suzanne and Luna looking at Hermione with worried expressions, and what appeared to be Gwendoline speaking very angrily at Martine. If Minerva had been closer she would have heard what Gwendoline was saying— “God dammit Martine I know empathy is hard for you but come on! She obviously had something terrible happen to her, and she said she didn’t want to talk about it. You’re so careless sometimes.”—but all she saw was a thoroughly chastised Martine.

Leading Hermione through the door and into the first door, which appeared to Hermione to be an empty staff room, Minerva led Hermione to a couch and sunk down into it. Hermione, who was crying earnestly but not sobbing uncontrollably, just curled into Minerva’s side. After a few minutes, Hermione managed to choke out “Why doesn’t she want me?”

Minerva, confused as to who Hermione was talking about, asked “Who?”

“My- my mom.”

Minerva’s heart broke at that question and she just held onto Hermione tighter. “I don’t know, Hermione. I don’t know, but she’s a fool. You are incredible, and smart, and strong, and any sane mother would be proud to call you her daughter.”

Hermione nodded against Minerva’s shoulder, trying her hardest to believe that but being unable to. She clenched and unclenched her fists, wanting desperately to dig her nails into her skin, to feel the pain a monster like her deserved, but barely managed to restrain herself.

Minerva felt Hermione stop crying, leaned back and said, “You can take the first few periods off, dear. I’ll speak to your professors—you won’t be penalized.”

Hermione stayed silent for a minute and then mumbled “I want to go to class.”

“While I admire your intellectual drive, Hermione, I have no doubt that you’ll be able to make up the introductory lessons quite easily.” Minerva placed her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “You need some time alone to focus on yourself.”

Admiring Minerva’s effort to help, Hermione was nonetheless aware of how painfully off the mark it was. “You don’t understand, I _need_ to go to class. Being alone is the last thing I need right now. I’m feeling very…” Hermione struggled with how to put her thoughts into words, but ultimately decided that blunt was the best way to go. “I want to hurt myself right now, Minerva. I don’t feel strong enough to be alone yet.” Hermione clenched and unclenched her fists again, battling her inner emotions.

Minerva felt another piece of her heart fracture off, and for the millionth time regretted not cursing Jean Granger into oblivion when she had the chance. Minerva didn’t know what was said at the breakfast table, but it obviously made Hermione spiral into thoughts about her mother. Sighing, Minerva looked at Hermione and nodded. “Of course, dear. You can go to class. Just…promise me that you’ll go see Poppy if it becomes too much?”

Hermione, relieved that Minerva agreed to let her go to class, nodded silently and wiped some of the wetness from her face.

Taking Hermione’s schedule out, Minerva held it to where both of them could see it. “Oh look, you have me first for Transfiguration. We can walk there together in a few minutes.”

The rest of Hermione’s Monday consisted of Charms, Potions, and Astronomy and History of Magic after lunch. Hermione immediately felt her spirits lift when she saw Potions.

Taking a few more minutes to compose herself, Hermione finally felt stable enough to leave the room with Minerva. As they walked toward class, Minerva glanced at her watch and said “It looks like we’re going to be right on time. Which is wonderful news, because it means I can startle any latecomers.”


	14. First Day

Hermione walked through the door first and saw that three seats were still open. Steeling herself and making her way toward the seat near her fellow Ravenclaw girls, she sunk into it without looking at them.

Gwendoline smacked Martine on the arm and gestured toward Hermione, and Martine took a deep breath and walked the two spots over to where Hermione sat. Everyone was still quietly chatting around the room, so nobody but their fellow Ravenclaws overheard when Martine said “I’m sorry.” Gwendoline cleared her throat, and Martine continued. “I’ve been told that I lack empathy and a basic understanding of human interactions…and I guess there’s some truth to that. I was rude and hurtful and shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about something that you obviously don’t want to.”

Hermione looked up at Martine, who held out her hand and said “Friends?”

Reaching out and giving Martine’s hand a shake, Hermione replied “Friends.”

After releasing hands, Martine stood there for a few moments awkwardly before saying “Cool” and walking back to her seat. Hermione smiled, grateful to see that she wasn’t the only one who didn’t always understand the whole human interaction thing.

She was knocked out of her musings though when Minerva said to the class “It is now 8 o’clock and we are still missing two of our number. If you will all please take out your wands and sit quietly while we wait for the remaining two.”

Then, without warning, Minerva changed into a tabby cat. Hermione grinned, remembering the first time that Minerva had changed into her animagus form in front of her, and sympathized with her classmates’ amazed gasps.

Suzanne leaned over to Hermione and whispered “Did she just turn into a cat?”

Nodding, Hermione let out a small laugh and whispered back, “Yeah, she’s an animagus.”

Everyone did as Minerva instructed and pulled out their wands, and they only had to wait for another sixty seconds before two students came rushing through the door. Recognizing one of them as Brock, another Ravenclaw First Year, Hermione didn’t recognize the other and realized he must be a Slytherin, who they shared this class with.

Brock let out a relieved laugh and said “That was close! Good thing Prof. Micky G isn’t here yet.”

Minerva chose that moment to transform back into her human form and fix the two boys with a piercing stare. The Slytherin boy let out a quiet, “Woah…” and Brock grinned and said “An animagus, that it so cool.”

“While I appreciate the compliments, gentlemen, I must remind you that you are walking into my class tardy. I would not be so jovial if I were you.” Minerva looked every inch a professor in that moment, and Hermione couldn’t help but to admire her transformation.

The Slytherin boy chimed in and said “We’re sorry, professor. We got lost and ran into each other and found our way here as fast as we could.”

Minerva inclined her head and said “Don’t let it happen again.” As they started walking toward their seats, she added “Oh, and five points from Ravenclaw.”

When Brock turned toward her and opened his mouth to protest, she said “My name is Professor McGonagall, not ‘Prof. Micky G’ or any other such nonsense. If you disrespect me in such a way again you will receive a much worse punishment than a deduction of five points. Do you understand me, Mr…?”

Brock gulped and said “Brock Cull, Professor. Yes, I understand.”

Minerva said “Good” and turned away to walk toward her desk, and Hermione smiled when she caught the hint of a smirk on Minerva’s face. She must have found the title ‘Micky G’ funnier than she let on. 

When she reached her desk, Minerva turned to the class and very seriously said “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she turned her desk into a pig and back again, which greatly excited the class. Soon, though, that excitement died down when Minerva wrote a lot of complicated notes on the board and then had them practice turning matchsticks into needles.

When Minerva handed Hermione her matchsticks, Hermine turned two into perfect needles and handed them back before Minerva had even moved on to the next person. Minerva had heard of Hermione’s summer accomplishments from Severus, but seeing it in person was still remarkable. Smiling at Hermione, Minerva announced to the class “Ten points to Ravenclaw for the fastest matchstick to needle transformation I have ever seen in this class.”

As Minerva passed out the rest of the matchsticks, Hermione wondered if her entire day was going to be like this and found herself thinking that her lessons with Severus couldn’t come quickly enough. As Hermione sat in silence, she slowly felt her earlier emotions start creeping back in. Refusing to succumb, Hermione turned to find something to occupy herself with.

She reached out her mental feelers and made contact with a few of the wands in the room. For many of them it was their first time being used, and some of them refused to perform the spell because their wielder wasn’t confident enough or they didn’t trust them yet.

Noticing that Suzanne’s wand was one of the ones who refused to perform due to her lack of confidence, Hermione decided to help her. Getting up and going to stand next to Suzanne’s desk, Hermione asked “Do you want some help?”

“Please! I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It’s just staying a matchstick.” Suzanne pleaded.

Hermione laughed and said “It’s because you’re not confident. You’re actually saying it correctly and doing the right wand movement, but your wand isn’t going to perform the magic you want it to until you gain some confidence.”

“Here, watch me.” Hermione pointed her wand at one of Suzanne’s matchsticks and turned it effortlessly into a needle. Then, while the people at the surrounding desks looked on in awe, she turned it back into a matchstick. “It’s all about confidence. As you just saw, the words and the movement will produce the result you want, you just need to believe that.”

Nodding and steeling herself, Suzanne tried one more time. Pointing her wand and saying the words with only a slight waver in her voice, her matchstick became a little bit silver and pointy. It wasn’t perfect, as it still had the match head, but it was definitely an improvement.

Suzanne pointed at it excitedly and said “Look! It’s almost a needle!” Minerva walked over and saw that it was indeed almost a needle and said “Very good, Ms. Pell. Keep at it and you may just have a fully formed needle by the end of class.”

Hermione spent the rest of the lesson helping her fellow Ravenclaws, and even a few Slytherins, and by the end of the lesson most of the class had managed some kind of noticeable change in their matchsticks.

Minerva was in awe—usually at the end of her first lesson only one person would manage to make any kind of difference. She noticed how Hermione kept touching people’s wands and saying things like “Your wand won’t work unless you’re confident” and “Hold it higher. It’ll respond better if you grip it here” and couldn’t help but to suspect that Hermione was connecting with the wands in order to help her classmates. At the end of the day, though, what worked was what worked, and Minerva was okay with that even if she didn’t fully understand it.

After Transfiguration was Charms, and Hermione led all of her classmates there through a hidden passage on the third floor. Professor Filius Flitwick, the Charms Master and Head of Ravenclaw house, was the short wizard Hermione had seen with Minerva earlier. He was so short that he actually had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk, but somehow he was distinguished enough that it didn’t seem comical.

They worked on the Levitation Charm that first day, and Hermione earned Ravenclaw another five points for being able to demonstrate it with her feather and then with her desk in the first minute of practice time. Again helping her classmates, which included Hufflepuffs in this class, Hermione couldn’t help but to begin to feel incredibly bored. Boredom led to thinking, which led to negative thoughts and crawling skin, so by the end of class she wasn’t looking very good.

At long last, however, Charms ended and Hermione led her classmates into the dungeons. Each step made her feel lighter, and by the time she walked into her favorite room in the castle, her eyes only looked a bit haunted. Seeing Severus standing dramatically at the front of the room, she took a seat at a table with Luna in the middle of the room and smiled at him. While he didn’t smile back, she did detect a small upturn of the corner of his mouth, and for him that might as well be a grin.

As everyone filed into the classroom, this class was shared with the Slytherins again, Severus closed the door and turned to address them. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making,” Severus began, speaking in barely more than a whisper that the students caught every word of nonetheless. Like Minerva, Severus had the innate gift of keeping a class completely silent without any effort.

“As there is little foolish wand-waving here,” Hermione’s wand gave off a wave of protest, “many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect more than one of you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

The silence, if possible, grew even more silent after that small speech. Hermione sat on the edge of her seat, completely captivated by Severus’s speech and hoping that she was the one he referred to as being able to appreciate the art of potion making.

“Selwyn” Snape said suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

The pureblood boy looked shocked that his own Head of House was putting him on the spot, and replied “I don’t know, sir.”

Severus shook his head in disappointment and turned away from Harper. “Carrow!” he then said, and pointed to indicate which twin he was talking to. “Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

She looked just as shocked as Harper had, and also replied “I don’t know, sir.”

Severus said “And here I was hoping that my own House would have at least read the introductory chapter. Maybe a Ravenclaw will prove better prepared.”

“You!” Severus pointed at Brock and everyone groaned internally. For a smart guy, Brock was very stupid. “What’s the difference between monkswood and wolfsbane?”

Brock grinned and said “You know, sir, I read most of the book but I’m going to be really honest when I say that I don’t remember all of it. You should totally ask Hermione though, she’s been on fire today.”

Narrowing his eyes as though deciding whether or not to punish Brock, Severus turned away and looked at Hermione instead. “Well? Are you able to enlighten the class?”

Hermione smirked at the challenge and said “Yes, sir. Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkswood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Sir.”

Severus looked approvingly at Hermione and then intimidatingly at the rest of the class. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

As everyone but Hermione rushed to break out parchment and quill, Severus added “And five points to Ravenclaw for that excellent answer.”

Severus had them work in pairs on a simple potion to cure boils, and he swept around the room intimidatingly with his black cloak making comments and criticisms. Hermione and Luna finished the potion when class was only half over, with Hermione making a few improvements on the written instructions and Luna enthusiastically agreeing with the deviations.

As they waited for Severus to reach them and inspect their potion, Luna turned to Hermione and said “You’re the one he was talking about. You appreciate the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron.”

Hermione smiled at Luna’s odd but insightful statement and looked into their cauldron. The potion was beyond simple for her to brew, and was an unappetizing vomit green color, but she still found it oddly beautiful. The thought that something so abstract as throwing ingredients into a cauldron could produce results so widely varied and remarkable was inspiring. So she replied “Yes, I really do.”

Luna nodded and lapsed back into thoughtful silence. At least, Hermione thought it was thoughtful silence—Luna seemed to operate on a different plane of existence.

As Severus drew even with their table, Hermione looked up to meet his gaze. He inclined his head briefly before looking into their cauldron. Appearing satisfied, he turned and announced to the class “This, class, is a perfect example of a boil potion. You should all take note.” Severus cast his gaze around the room at that and curled his lip in disgust at some of the horrendous potion attempts, mostly from his own House.

A few students came over to look in Hermione and Luna’s cauldron, and when they returned to their seats a mixture of inspired and demoralized, Severus turned his attention to Hermione again. “Excellent work, Hermione” he spoke quietly. “Not that I would expect anything less from you.” He swept away to terrorize more students before Hermione had a chance to respond, but she was left with a warm feeling. Coming from Severus, that was high praise.


	15. Difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger warning*** for quasi-violent nightmare, panic attack, and misc. mental health issues.

The rest of her first week was mostly uneventful. While most students were quickly finding out that there was a lot more to magic than pointing a wand and saying a few funny words, Hermione was enjoying the routine—even if her classes were all very rudimentary so far.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staffroom fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Professor Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and tried to avoid getting Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. The only exciting bit of his class came when he glided in through the chalkboard.

Astronomy was interesting for Hermione, as she had never really studied it before, but it was absolutely fascinating to Suzanne. Every Tuesday at midnight Ravenclaw First Years had to study the night sky through their telescopes and make observations, but Suzanne actually went out an extra night during that first week—having to sneak out of the dorm to do it. Hermione was easily able to memorize the names of planets and stars, so she was doing well in the class, but she had a hard time bringing herself to understand Suzanne’s excitement. Though, of course, that was exactly how Suzanne felt about Hermione’s adoration of potions.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouse behind the castle to study Herbology with a dumpy little witch named Professor Ponoma Sprout. They learned how to take care of various strange plants and fungi, and Hermione found their potential potion applications particularly interesting. Interestingly, this was their only class with the Gryffindors.

Flying lessons went once a week on the Quidditch pitch. Nearly everyone born into a magical household claimed to have a lot of experience on a broomstick, and they spent a great deal of time trying to out-do each other by telling stories of close calls with muggle aeroplanes and aerial gliders. This naturally left the muggleborns like Hermione feeling a bit worried they were behind the curve, but the first flying lesson eased their worries very quickly. Madam Rolanda Hooch, flying instructor and Quidditch referee, spent the first half of the class with everyone’s feet planted firmly on the ground. Then, much to the muggleborn’s amusement, she corrected over half of the “experienced fliers” grip and form. They never went higher than about five feet up that first lesson, and while many people found it exhilarating, Hermione found it a bit uncomfortable and was glad she only had to do it once a week.

The class that most people had been excited for was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and it did prove to be mildly interesting, if a bit rudimentary. Professor Quentin Lorax, who was a graduate of Durmstrang Institute who moved to Scotland to be with his wife, was quick witted and even quicker wanded. Professor Lorax had been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for five years and he had a very good reputation amongst the older students, but unfortunately for the First Years they had to start with the very basics.

One thing that did come from Defense Against the Dark Arts, though, was the discovery that Brock and Martine each had a knack for it. They even started reading ahead in the book and practicing some not-so-rudimentary spells in the boys’ dorms after just the second class. Brock was powerful, but rash in his decision making, and if it weren’t for Martine’s quick thinking he would have destroyed a few beds several times. Martine didn’t seem to have quite as much raw power, but she quickly learned how to maximize what she did have and was quick and ruthless in her spell casting. By the end of the first week of classes they were talking about forming a study/practice group to keep the Ravenclaw First Years ahead of everyone else. Brock’s black eye didn’t exactly go far toward convincing everyone, but they were determined it would eventually happen.

Outside of classes, though, Hermione was having an increasingly hard time. She worked as hard as she could to distract herself during the day, but every night as she sat on her bed looking at the moon through the window, she found her ever present negative thoughts creeping back in. She wasn’t sleeping well, and she could practically feel Minerva and Severus’s gazes grow more concerned each class she was in. They didn’t understand though. They didn’t have to see the moon grow a sliver larger every night, or wake up from a nightmare and swear they could feel the creature’s jaws locked around them, or remember their mother’s eyes that looked at them like they were unwanted monsters. Hermione knew she wasn’t coping well, but she was just hoping she could make it to the weekend when she could go spend some time with Poppy without missing classes—maybe get something to help her sleep.

In the early hours of Friday, well before sunrise, Hermione loudly gasped and shot up in bed from a nightmare. Breathing heavily, she curled in on herself and started crying. Her dream had been strange and highly unpleasant. It started normally, she was going to dinner with her Housemates, when suddenly the Great Hall ceiling changed to reveal a full moon. Hermione hadn’t been expecting the full moon and hadn’t taken her Wolfsbane, so she watched with dread as her body changed and she started massacring her friends. As she lay awake in bed, shaking from her quiet sobs and remembering her dream, Hermione was most disturbed by the fact that in her dream state she had actually _enjoyed_ what she was doing.

She lay awake in bed for nearly half an hour, too scared to go back to sleep, when she decided to cut her losses and get up. It was still far too early to go to breakfast, but she could at least get dressed and go sit in the Common Room and read. Sniffing and wiping her eyes, Hermione pulled her curtains back and stood. Changing quickly and grabbing her already packed bag, Hermione made her way as quietly as she could across the room, but stopped when she heard movement from Gwendoline’s bed.

Glancing to her left, Hermione saw Gwendoline’s curtain open and a sleepy girl step out. Locking eyes with Gwendoline, Hermione just nodded once in acknowledgment and turned to walk away. What she didn’t expect was for Gwendoline to run across to her and lay a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Can’t sleep?” Gwendoline whispered.

Hermione just shook her head, not really comfortable talking to someone she just murdered in her dream. It was all a bit too raw for her, and even though she logically knew she had 11 days until the full moon, part of her still didn’t trust herself to be that close to anyone. So Hermione took a step away from Gwendoline, causing her hand to come off of her arm.

Gwendoline didn’t look offended, in fact, she looked like she understood. “Well, I’m not going to tell you to try and get some sleep or anything, I know how useless that advice is. Just…know that I’m here if you need me.” With that Gwendoline walked to the washroom, which must have been her original destination. Standing in shock for a moment, Hermione shook herself out of it and was gone by the time Gwendoline returned.

When the First Years met up in the Common Room at 07 to head to breakfast together, no longer needing Daniel’s guide services but still liking to stick as a group, they were met with a terrible looking Hermione. She had bags under her red tinged eyes, and she was surrounded by various books and sheets of parchment. Looking up in surprise when they approached her, as she hadn’t realized it was already 07, Hermione tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. It seems like that expression wasn’t part of her repertoire today.

Brock was the first to say anything, but instead of making some kind of joke like he normally would he just looked concerned and said “Do you need help putting anything up?” Hermione nodded and Brock and the rest of the First Years made quick work of putting the books back on the shelves while Hermione put her parchment in her bag. The rest of them didn’t know it, but Hermione had just done the next two weeks worth of homework.

Her fellow Ravenclaws stayed with her throughout the day, forming an almost protective circle around her and pulling attention away from her in class, but Hermione just kept thinking about her dream. She knew it wasn’t real, but she just kept seeing them bleeding and torn open from her claws and teeth and them protecting her was making her feel even worse. She didn’t eat anything at lunch, despite her friends protests, and by the time she was walking toward Double Herbology after lunch she felt like she was barely holding on to her sanity.

Hermione didn’t hear what Professor Sprout was saying, but did feel when Suzanne nudged her. Looking up, Hermione saw Professor Sprout looking at her expectantly so she eloquently said “What?” Sighing, Professor Sprout repeated her question. “What is Devil’s Snare afraid of?”

But as Professor Sprout was talking, Hermione caught sight of the Forbidden Forest over her shoulder and was immediately thrust back into her mind. Despite being in the open field beside the greenhouse and several hundred yard away from the forest, Hermione began to feel claustrophobic and panicky. She grabbed her side and remembered the creature attacking her, but this time she saw her own eyes looking down at her over a bloody maw.

When Hermione still didn’t respond to her, Professor Sprout’s annoyance turned to concern. “Ms. Granger, are you alright?” Suzanne reached out to touch her, but Hermione jerked back and said “Don’t touch me!” and started breathing faster.

Professor Sprout walked over toward where Hermione was standing and was alarmed when she saw up close how terrible Hermione looked, and even more alarmed when tears started coming to her eyes. “Oh dear. Ms. Pell, could you escort Ms. Granger here to the Hospital Wing?”

Hermione looked at Professor Sprout then and angrily shouted “Don’t call me Granger! I’m nothing like my mother!” Then, her anger seemingly spent after her short outburst, Hermione grabbed her shoulders and started breathing faster.

Noticing the Gryffindors watching closely and talking to each other, the Ravenclaws formed a circle around Hermione to give her some privacy. Professor Sprout cautiously approached Hermione and said “Hermione, then. Ms. Pell, do you think you could help Hermione to the Hospital wing?”

Suzanne nodded and once again tried to put a hand on Hermione, relieved when the latter didn’t jerk away. “Come on, Hermione. Let’s go see Madam Pomfrey. She can give you something to help you sleep.”

Allowing Suzanne to pull her a few steps, Hermione crumbled to a heap on the floor before she got far. Gasping for breath, hyperventilating now in her panic, Hermione tucked her knees to her chest and found herself unable to move. Suddenly, having an idea, Suzanne said “Brock! Come carry her.”

Brock, who looked his name and was shockingly large for a boy his age, ran over without hesitation and scooped Hermione up into his arms. He said to Suzanne “Make sure you bring her stuff back to the castle.” before taking off up the steep slope with the small form of Hermione in his arms.

Brock uttered small reassurances to Hermione as he travelled to the castle. He might not know her well, but she reminded him of his older sister. He wasn’t able to stop his sister from taking her own life, but he hoped he could help Hermione avoid a similar fate. Brock knew everyone thought he was incapable of being serious, but when it came to people he cared about he could be incredibly serious. And he had only known his Ravenclaw family for a week, but he already thought of them as exactly that—a family.

Walking through the open doors, he felt his arms start to shake but kept pushing. He climbed two staircases and was starting to struggle, which is why he was incredibly grateful to see Severus round the corner ahead of him. “Professor Snape! Professor Snape!”

Severus looked up, alarmed by the urgency in Brock’s voice, and was struck by a strong sense of déjà vu at seeing Hermione in distress. He closed the gap between them quickly and asked sharply “What happened?”

As Brock handed her over, he explained. “Some sort of breakdown. Maybe a panic attack, I’m not sure. Martine said she hasn’t been sleeping more than a couple of hours each night, and this morning when we came down she looked like she had been in the Common Room for hours already.” He spoke as they walked toward the Hospital Wing.

Severus looked down at the crying girl in his arms and said “Come on, Hermione. I know it hurts, just breathe. In and out, just breathe.” Turning to Brock as they arrived at the entrance to the Hospital Wing, Severus said “Thank you Mr. Cull, you can return to your class now.”

Brock just shook his head and said “Respectfully, sir, I’m staying. She’s in my House, and we look out for each other. I’m staying until I’m sure she’s okay.” Seeing no point in fighting, Severus just nodded and gestured for Brock to open the door.

Poppy was in the middle of helping a Fourth Year girl with acne, but when she saw Severus burst into her wing with a crying and hyperventilating Hermione, she immediately rushed over to him. “Oh dear. Severus, what happened?”

Severus turned to Brock and said “Explain” as he moved to put Hermione on a cot. Hermione turned to her side, pulled her knees to her chest, and tried to calm her panic, but Severus being so close to her didn’t help matters. She knew it was irrational, but she was terrified that she was going to hurt someone, or that someone was going to realize she was a monster and kill her.

Still a bit out of breath, Brock said “I think she’s having a panic attack, but I’m not totally sure. She hasn’t been sleeping or eating well, and in class she just kind of zoned out and then freaked out when Suzanne tried to touch her.”

Nodding her head, Poppy kept an eye on Severus and Hermione as she asked “Was there anything else? Anything she said or did, besides not wanting to be touched?”

Brock thought for a second before saying “Well, she said it wasn’t safe to touch her, and she got mad at Professor Sprout for calling her Ms. Granger. Something about not being like her mom.”

Sighing deeply, Poppy said “Thank you for bringing her. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat and waiting, there are some things we need to discuss before you return to your classmates.” As Brock complied and walked toward a chair against the wall, Poppy walked to Hermione and thought about what he said.

The comment about her mother was expected, given all that her mother did to her, but the comment about it not being safe to touch her was more troubling. But Poppy wasn’t able to singlehandedly care for hundreds of children and staff due to her lack of intelligence, and she quickly formed a suspicion about why Hermione would say that. Now she just had to test it.

“Severus, back away please.” Severus immediately obeyed, knowing better than to question Poppy, and Poppy noticed Hermione immediately relax some. Closing the curtain so Brock and the other student in the wing didn’t see, Poppy closed herself and Hermione inside.

“Hermione, dear, you’re not going to hurt me. Listen to me, Hermione. You’re not going to hurt me. You’re not going to hurt anyone. We’re safe, you’re safe. You’re not a monster, Hermione.” As Poppy spoke she slowly moved closer to Hermione until she was crouched down beside her bed, their faces just a foot apart. Hermione’s eyes were tightly shut, but when Poppy laid a hand on her shoulder she slowly cracked them open.

“See? Perfectly safe, Hermione. I’m safe, we’re all safe.” Poppy kept talking to Hermione, and after a few minutes Hermione was able to breathe somewhat normally and some of her irrational paranoia had left. Helping Hermione into a sitting position, Poppy stayed kneeling beside her bed and started questioning her.

“I know you may not want to talk right now, Hermione, but I need you to tell me what’s going on. The young man who came in here with you said you haven’t been sleeping or eating, is that true? What triggered this incident today?”

Hermione wouldn’t meet Poppy’s eyes, but she knew that she wasn’t getting relief until she spoke. “I’ve been having nightmares. Last night was the worst. In my dream I…” Hermione broke off painfully and a few tears rolled down her face before she continued. “I killed them. My Housemates, my…friends. I forgot to take Wolfsbane and I killed them all. There was so much blood, and when I tried to go back to sleep that’s all I could see. It’s all I’ve been able to see all day, and during Herbology we were outside for longer than usual and I saw the forest and it just seemed so much _louder_ than usual and I couldn’t stop looking at it and then Suzanne touched me and I just saw myself as a monster tearing her apart and I couldn’t breathe and Professor Sprout was talking to me and I got angry and I- I-”

Hermione broke off from her rambling and started crying louder. Poppy stood up and sat on the edge of the cot, putting a hand on Hermione’s back and rubbing circles. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

They sat that way for another few minutes before Hermione said “I’m just so tired, Poppy. Physically and mentally. I’m just…tired.”

“Well you can stay here for as long as you need, and I can give you something to help you sleep—dreamlessly.” When Hermione visibly sagged with relief, Poppy added “But this isn’t a long term solution, Hermione. I won’t be giving you medication every time you have trouble sleeping or feel overwhelmed. You’re going to need to find other ways to cope.”

Hermione just nodded and waited for Poppy to give her the Sleeping Potion, greedily gulping it down as soon as it was in her hands. Laying down on the cot and falling into a blissfully dreamless sleep, Hermione tried not to think too much about anything.

Pulling the curtain aside and stepping out, Poppy was greeted with the sight of eight additional children standing beside a very put out looking Severus. “I daresay there are more of you than there were only moments ago. Has something happened?”

Severus spoke before any of the children could. “These,” gesturing in a mildly annoyed manner, “are the Ravenclaw First Years. All of them. Despite my insistence that they return to the class they just ditched, here they stand.”

“After Brock left with Hermione we decided that we should be here too. She’s in our House, and that makes us family. Herbology can go screw itself.” Martine chimed in, ignoring Severus’s pointed glare.

Poppy sighed and weighed her options. They all obviously cared about Hermione, and since they were going to be the ones spending the most time with Hermione it might be a good idea to have a quick discussion with them. “Very well. All of you into my office, including you Severus.”

The young Ravenclaws and their Potions Master filed obediently into Poppy’s office—the latter looking decidedly disgruntled at the prospect of standing in such close quarters to nine children. Once inside, Poppy closed the door to give them all some privacy and took a seat behind her desk, trying to organize her thoughts.

After a moment she looked up and started talking. “As I’m sure you’ve all picked up on, Hermione is dealing with quite a few things mentally. I won’t tell you everything, as doing so would be in violation of her privacy, but I will say that she has endured a lifetime of horrific circumstances and that an incident this summer further compounded those things. She has a long road to recovery, and you are all going to be instrumental in that. Hermione needs support, but she mostly needs acceptance. She is going to have mood swings, and trouble sleeping, and unfortunately may have more incidents like this one—but through it all she is going to need friends who accept her and allow her space to vent and heal.”

Sensing an opportunity, Poppy added “And part of that space is not prying. If she ever decided to tell you what she is struggling with, that will be of her own volition. Sometimes she may need to spend a night or two away from the dormitory, or miss a few classes. If that happens I expect you not to pry, but to be there for her in any way she asks you to be.” Poppy heaved another sigh. “I know this is a lot, but if you care about Hermione enough to walk out of class and stand up to surly old Potions Masters, then I think you’re up to it.”

The Ravenclaw First Years all looked at each other and exchanged nods. They would protect their own. Brock, who seemed to have gained some sort of leadership position from carrying Hermione, puffed out his chest and said “We are. We won’t let her down.”

As the other First Years nodded along, Severus decided that he should end his silence. “While I am grateful for everything you have done for Hermione, I am still a professor and must insist you return to class. Hermione is going to be asleep for a while, and may very well spend the night away from the Ravenclaw Dormitory.”

When Martine opened her mouth, looking like she was going to protest again, Severus held up his hand in a staying motion and said “I will, of course, ensure that you are all notified if anything changes or if she requests you. I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied, Martine kept her mouth shut and nodded. The Ravenclaw First Years filed out of Poppy’s office and headed back toward the greenhouse where a mildly angry but mostly concerned Professor Sprout awaited them, but Luna was sure to drop Hermione’s bag inside her curtain before leaving the Hospital Wing.

Severus rubbed his hands over his face and plopped unceremoniously into one of Poppy’s chairs. “What are we going to do, Poppy?”

“I think you’re in more of a position to help her than any of us, Severus. From what I hear she loves your subject and is quite fond of you as well. And besides, you’re in more of a position to relate to her than anyone else here.”

Severus sighed and said “I know, which is why this is particularly scary. I have no idea how to be a mentor to somebody, and Merlin knows I can barely hold myself together most days.”

“All she needs you to do is be there for her, Severus. Just try. That’s all any of us can do, really.”

Hermione was so exhausted that she didn’t wake up until the next morning, but when her eyes finally did open she felt much better. Until she remembered what had happened the previous afternoon and found herself cursing her brain’s timing. Not only did her classmates see her in her weakest moment, but so did the Gryffindors and Professor Sprout. She hoped the Gryffindors hadn’t already spread it around the entire school that she was some kind of freak.

When Hermione sat up and looked around, Poppy bustled out of her office and over to her cot. “Oh good, you’re up. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks for, you know, dealing with me again. I’m sorry I keep doing this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Not only is caring for students literally my job, but you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Things like this will happen, and we’ll deal with it when they do. No use worrying about it or trying to place blame.”

“Still, thank you.” Hermione took a beat before asking “Am I clear to leave?”

Poppy nodded as she said “You most certainly are, but remember that you can come back here any time you need, for whatever reason.”


	16. First Year Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione realizes she has a larger support network than she thought.

Hermione left the Hospital Wing and stopped a corridor away, thinking of what she was going to do. Her first thought was going to the library, but she wasn’t sure that she would be able to resist the temptation of falling into the books and never crawling out, so she vetoed it for now. That left her with Ravenclaw tower, which meant seeing all of her Housemates, or a professor. Deciding to put off Ravenclaw tower for a little while longer, Hermione turned and made a beeline for Albus’s office. She needed to talk to him about how she was going to play off her full moon absences anyway.

Saying “Chocolate frogs” gained her entrance to the Headmaster’s office, and she rode the staircase to the top. When she reached the top she saw that Albus was not in his office, and checking her watch, she realized that he must be down at breakfast.

Deciding to sit and wait, Hermione thought about her House. She had never heard about any year group acting as close as hers was already starting to, and as much as she thought it was nice to have friends, it also made her a bit wary. Not only was there that voice in the back of her mind saying they were just playing a joke on her, there was the increased risk of them discovering her secrets if they continued to show as much interest as they did. Which led her back to the issue of her full moon illnesses and disappearances.

Her first thought was just to claim illness or claim needing a break from people, but after a few months they were bound to discover that her absence always coincided with the full moon. Maybe if she were in somewhere like Gryffindor she could get away with a lie like that, but Ravenclaw wasn’t the home of the wise and intelligent without reason. Which meant that her excuse would somehow have to include the full moon. Maybe some kind of astronomy project? But Suzanne would want to find out everything about it. Maybe she could say she was brewing some type of special potion with Severus that could only be brewed on the full moon? Or collecting ingredients that could only be harvested on the full moon? That had potential.

Breaking from her thoughts as Albus walked in, Hermione stood and gave him a brief hug. “What a pleasant surprise! I hope you haven’t been waiting long?”

Hermione shook her head. “Just a few minutes. I figured you were at breakfast and decided to just wait here for you.”

Albus took a seat in front of his desk, across from Hermione. “What can I do for you on this lovely Saturday?”

“I’ve been thinking, and I realized that we never really vocalized a plan as for how I’m going to keep suspicion off of myself over my full moon absences. Not only do my Housemates seem to be quite fond of me, but they’re also Ravenclaws. If anyone were to figure it out it would be them.”

Leaning back in his seat, Albus nodded thoughtfully. “And do you have any suggestions?”

Taking a deep breath, Hermione said “I do. My first thought was to claim I was doing some kind of astronomy project, but Suzanne is kind of obsessed with that subject and wouldn’t let me rest until she found out what I was doing. So my second thought was doing something with Potions, since everyone knows it’s my favorite subject. Are there any Potions that need to be brewed or ingredients that need to be collected on the full moon?”

“Yes, there are quite a few if my memory serves correctly. And I’m sure Severus wouldn’t object at all to maintaining that lie. Though it might be suspicious if you were to start such advanced work after only two weeks in his course. I have no doubt that you are proving to be brilliant in the subject, but a longer period of time to cement yourself as beyond your year level may be prudent.” Albus steepled his fingers and looked at Hermione.

“How about you just claim to be ill this month, and I’ll talk to Severus so we can get your Potions excuse ready for next month. Do you think that will satisfy your fellow Ravenclaws?”

Hermione nodded. “I do.”

“Good. Now that business is settled, tell me about your first week.”

“It, um… It could have gone better. I kind of had a bit of an incident yesterday.”

“Ah yes, I heard about that. Ponoma came to me in no small state of frustration at all ten of her Ravenclaw First Years walking out of her lesson without so much as a request for permission.”

Puzzled, Hermione asked “All ten Ravenclaw First Years? Brock and I were the only ones who left though.”

“Oh yes I suppose you would have been asleep by the time all of your Housemates arrived, so allow me to explain. To my understanding, when Mr. Cull whisked you away toward the Hospital Wing, Ponoma tried to continue her lesson. Of course, none of the Ravenclaw students were paying her any attention in their worry over you, until finally a rather spirited young woman named Martine Oleph loudly proclaimed something along the lines of “This is stupid, let’s go.” Of course, all of your Housemates followed her to the Hospital Wing, leaving a rather put out Ponoma behind.”

Hermione was shocked that her Housemates skipped their lesson in order to go see if she was okay. She might have expected eventual visits from the girls, but the fact that everyone—Luna, Gwendoline, Martine, Suzanne, Garrick, Justin, Theodore, and Amos— came to see her at once was surprising. She didn’t know how she felt about that. She didn’t know if she was worth it.

As though sensing her thoughts, Albus smiled gently at Hermione. “Your Housemates proclaimed you a member of their family. They care about you a great deal, Hermione.” Then he added, as though an afterthought, “I haven’t seen a year group bond so closely as a unit since…well, probably since the Hufflepuff class of ’68. And that was the ‘60s. And Hufflepuff. The fact that you’ve all managed it already is truly remarkable.”

Looking down for a moment to collect her thoughts, Hermione decided to voice some of her fears to Albus. “Albus…What if they’re wrong about me? What if I can’t be the friend they want? What if I’m not worth their affection?”

“Those are very big questions from someone so young, though of course when it comes to you I suppose nothing should surprise me. Hermione, I’m going to give you an answer that may seem counterintuitive, but bear with me.” Albus sat forward in his chair and gazed at Hermione intently.

“It doesn’t matter. You could be one of the worst people to ever walk this world, and it still wouldn’t matter.”

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Look at it this way. Do you like your Housemates?” Hermione nodded. “Do you think your Housemates are intelligent and rational people?” Again, Hermione nodded. “And finally, do you trust and respect your Housemates? Or, if you’re not quite there yet yourself, do you think that they are at least worthy of trust and respect?” Once again, Hermione nodded. Nothing she had seen led her to believe they were anything but.

“Then there you have it. It doesn’t matter if you’re worth it.”

“I’m still not sure I follow.”

“Don’t you see? If you think your Housemates are intelligent and rational, and worthy or your respect and trust, then that means you have to respect their decisions as well considered and thought out. Even if that decision is you.” Albus beamed as though he had just won a major debate, and Hermione nodded slowly.

“Your logic…is sound. I don’t know if it’s going to be that easy though.”

“Of course it won’t be, Hermione. Nothing worth having is easy to attain, and believe me, the friendship you’ve found in Ravenclaw House is worth having. But that doesn’t mean you should let your doubts stand in your way. Accept that you have flaws and try to work on them, but also be aware that your Housemates are aware of your flaws and seem to have accepted you anyway.”

Albus then stood up and walked over to his desk. “Speaking of your Housemates, I imagine the lot of them are anxiously awaiting news about your state. You don’t have to leave if you’re not ready to, but I strongly encourage you to go see them. Tell them only as much as you’re comfortable with, but try to remember that they accept you. Even if you don’t see yourself as worthy of their acceptance.”

Sitting behind his desk, Albus looked at Hermione one more time. “Let them prove you wrong, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded but found herself unable to rise for nearly five minutes. People liked her. She had a hard enough time adjusting to the fact that there were adults that liked her, but having people her own age like her was a nearly other worldly experience. They didn’t ignore her, or hit her, or call her weird and nerdy. They liked her. Kids liked her.

Maybe even stranger than that strangeness, though, was the fact that she was pretty sure she liked them too. They were smart, and funny, and fierce. And for whatever reason, they thought she was worth it. Sighing, she finally managed to rise from her chair. Not looking at Albus, who kept right on reading a letter, she walked out of the Headmaster’s Office and toward Ravenclaw Tower. She would give them a chance. They were crazy for liking her, but she would give them a chance.

Arriving at the entrance to the Common Room, she was saved from having to exercise her very worn down brain because someone was exiting as she went in. Nodding at the Second Year girl who was leaving, Hermione was pretty sure her name was Cho, she stepped inside the circular room.

While there were a few people scattered around the Common Room, it was for the most part empty so Hermione crossed the room and went through the door to the dormitories. Going up the staircase to the girls’ dorm, Hermione was surprised to find it empty. Dropping her bag for a moment, she only allowed a sliver of self-doubt to enter her mind before realizing that they were all probably in the boys’ dorm.

Walking back down the stairs and up to the boys’ side, Hermione heard the tell-tale sounds of Martine and Brock going at it and knew she was right in her instinct. Steeling herself, Hermione pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Brock was facing the door, so he immediately dropped his wand and said “Hermione, you’re back!” Of course, Martine being mid-spell when he stopped ended up sending him five feet back with a stunner, but he rolled to his feet good naturedly after only a moment on the floor.

While Brock dusted himself off, Hermione looked around the room and saw all of her year mates scattered about on a mixture of beds, the floor, and what looked like stolen Common Room furniture. A chorus of “Hermione!” and “Hey!” and “Glad you’re back!” reached her ears all at once, and Hermione offered them a small smile.

 

Brock ran over and pulled Hermione into a big hug, lifting her off the ground in his enthusiasm. The entire thing made her suddenly very uncomfortable, which was stupid because this boy had just carried her across the Hogwarts lawn and up several flights of stairs just yesterday, but it nevertheless made her uncomfortable. Sensing Hermione stiffening in his grasp, Brock put her down quickly and said “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Hermione took a step away from him and a deep breath before looking up at his genuinely apologetic teddy bear face and saying “It’s okay. I’m just…not there yet. With affection. I’m not used to it, and I don’t want you all to be walking on egg shells or anything, but some things are just harder for me and I’m sorry-”

“Apologies are pointless if nobody wants one.” Luna’s dreamy voice cut off Hermione’s rambling. “And seeing as how we’re all content to walk on eggshells, your apology is pointless.”

Justin nodded and chimed in with “Me and some of the other boys may not know you very well yet, but you’re one of us. And we stick together.”

“Yeah.” Suzanne voiced her agreement. “Just tell us what not to do and we won’t do it, no questions asked.”

Gwendoline nodded. “And vice versa. If you ever need anything at all, we’re all willing to help. No matter what it is.”

Tears of gratitude came to Hermione’s eyes during their proclamations, and Martine mistook them for sadness and said “Ah shit what did we do?”

Laughing and shaking her head, Hermione said “Nothing wrong. I’ve just…never had anyone care about me before.”

“No one?” Martine asked before she could check herself, resulting in Gwendoline slapping the back of her head.

“No. Look, I’m not ready to tell you everything about me, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to tell anyone everything about me…but I’d like to tell you some things. Do you all promise it never leaves this group though?”

“Of course.” “Yeah.” “Totally.”

Hermione took a deep breath and started talking. “Growing up with my mother wasn’t easy. She…well, she was abusive. When I was younger she would beat me pretty bad, but when she almost got caught she decided that ignoring me was better. So I cooked for myself, I got myself around the city, and I learned how to make it work. But it sucked. And the kids at school weren’t any better. They hit me and picked on me and excluded me from activities. It wasn’t easy, but this summer something happened that made it all a lot harder. When I was camping with my Girlguides group and our leaders, something…” Hermione paused and took another deep breath, trying to steady her shaking voice. “Something happened to me. Luckily a wizard found me after and saved my life, and Albus and Miner- Dumbledore and McGonagall explained that I was a witch. But then my mother disowned me and told me to never come back to her house, so I’ve been at Hogwarts since then.”

“So, no. I’ve never had anyone care about me before. And honestly half of the time I don’t think I’m worth being cared for. I’m all sorts of messed up, guys. Every time I close my eyes I see and hear every bad thing that ever happened to me. I can’t sleep, I have mood swings, and sometimes I hurt myself. Though I’m working on that one. I’m a terrible friend to have, and I’m sorry all of you are stuck dealing with me.”

Brock, in one of his rare showings of seriousness, was the first to speak. “This may not be the family you were born into, Hermione, but it’s the family that you got. You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not. I…I couldn’t help my own sister. She killed herself when she was thirteen—I was eight. But I will do everything in my power to help you, because you’re my sister too.” Brock looked around the room. “You’re all my sisters and brothers. The Sorting Hat put us together, but I’m choosing you. I’m choosing all of you.”

Looking Hermione dead in the eye, Martine said “I will tear this school apart for you, Hermione. If anyone so much as touches you or insults you while I’m around, they’ll find themselves in the Hospital Wing with missing appendages faster than they can blink. Just like I would for any in our group.”

Gwendoline put her arm around Martine and said “While her wording could use some work, I agree with her sentiment. You’re one of us, Hermione. You’re one of the Ravenclaw First Years.”

Snorting, Hermione wetly said “We need a better name.”

Amos gasped and said “Yes!” and Theodore shook his head, saying “You shouldn’t have said that. My brother has a bit of an obsession with naming things, despite the fact that he’s dreadful at it.”

“Am not!”

“Amos, I’m not resorting to childish games with you. Though I will refer you to the names of our cats—Cindy Clawford and Ru Paw—as evidence.”

Amos huffed and looked scathingly at his twin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, those are fabulous names.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think our group wants to be named after a pop culture cat pun. Whether it’s ‘fabulous’ or not.”

Amos looked up at the group, as though hoping someone would actually want to be named after a pop culture cat pun, but when he was met with silence he begrudgingly accepted his loss. “Fine, fine. But does anyone have any better ideas?”

Crickets. Brock, back to his decidedly not serious self, said “How about we go around the room and everyone has to say one idea, even if it’s stupid. I’ll go first. Kool Krew. With K’s, because we’re super kool.”

Amos chimed in with “Me next! Slayvenclaw. Get it? Because we’re Ravenclaws, and we slay.” Theodore shook his head and Amos said “At least it’s not a cat pun, Theo. I assume you have something better?”

Theo said “Not really. Umm…Eagle Elite?”

Going around the room, people pitched the following:

“Whiz Kids”

“Rowena’s Warriors”

“The Prodigies”

“The Crew (because we’re not goddamn idiots, Brock)”

“The Them (“from Good Omens, it’s a good book”; “isn’t that the group led by the literal Antichrist?”; “Um…yes?”)”

“Ride or Die”

“The GATE? Like, Gifted and Talented Education?”

“The Enterprise”

“The Convocation (it’s the term for a group of eagles)”

They were past 10 suggestions already, but people kept throwing them out.

“The Mafia”

“La famille”

“The Family (because we’re British, not French)”

“The Mob”

“Guys, this is getting ridiculous. I’m going to narrow it down and we’ll vote, okay?” Martine’s voice left no room for questions, and everybody nodded their agreement.

“Good. The top three, based purely on my opinion and nothing else, are “The Crew,” “The Convocation,” and “The Family.” Simple, yet effective. We will vote on the three, and if there’s a tie Hermione will break it. This was all her idea anyway.”

“Now, all those in favor of “The Crew” raise their hands.” Martine counted hands and said “Alright. Four votes for that. Now, raise your hands for “The Family.”” Counting again, Martine said “Two, alright. And since I am capable of basic math, that leaves us with a tie between The Crew and The Convocation. Hermione?”

Hermione debated her options. The Crew was really cool-- it had a nice ring to it and conveyed an air of unruliness that she liked. The Convocation was a bit more of a mouthful, but she liked how it kept their Ravenclaw roots in mind. She liked the idea of people coming to refer to them all as a group of eagles. Making up her mind, Hermione announced “The Ravenclaw Class of 1999 shall be henceforth and forever more known as...The Convocation.”


	17. Lesson with Severus

The Convocation spent the rest of that weekend holed up in the boys’ dorm practicing spells and learning about each other.

Suzanne Pell was a muggle born from Dover. She didn’t have any siblings, her mother was a banker, and her father was a nurse. Discovering she was a witch was a bit of a shock for her and her parents, but they were very accepting and enthusiastically agreed for her to attend Hogwarts. A rather plain looking girl, Suzanne wore her brown hair cropped just above her shoulders.

Luna Lovegood was a bit harder to get a pin on, but they all learned that she was the daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, Editor in Chief of the Quibbler. Luna believed in the existence of a great many unproven things, but didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that others didn’t. When asked about her mother, Luna said “She died when I was young. She was a brilliant witch, but a bit experimental. One day one of her experiments went a bit too wrong.”

Gwendoline Marks was raised in a predominantly pure blood family, but she wasn’t taught many of the prejudiced beliefs. Her mother was a Prewett, but her father was a half-blood. Her mother was good friends with Martine’s mother, who was a Fawley before marriage, so Gwendoline and Martine had known each other for nearly their entire lives. Gwendoline was without a doubt a beautiful girl. She had waist length blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and carried herself in a way that could only be described as aristocratic.

Martine Oleph was the half-blood daughter of a pure blood mother and a muggle father. Like Gwendoline she was raised with many pure blood customs, but as a Hufflepuff and the wife of a muggle, her mother didn’t agree with notions of blood superiority. This allowed Martine to experience a lot of muggle things like television and muggle literature, which she was particularly fond of. Of course, Martine was still looked down on at many pure blood gatherings, and as such she developed a bit of a wicked defensive streak. She never got into whether her parents had approved of it or not, but she also had three ear piercings in each ear and had a short pixie style cut for her dark black hair. Martine looked like, in every sense of the word, a troublemaker.

Brock Cull was a half blood, but even though he showed magical talent from infancy, his parents decided to have him attend muggle primary school until he received his Hogwarts letter. He was always significantly bigger than the other kids, something that really helped him in things like gym class and on sports teams, but hurt him in the realm of making friends since a lot of the other kids were scared of him. His sister killed herself when he was eight, and his parents ended up divorcing over it since they each blamed the other. But despite all of this Brock was like a great big teddy bear. He was at least head taller than anyone else in The Convocation, and twice as broad, but his close cropped brown hair and round baby face off-set his size.

Justin Webster was another muggle born from an extremely wealthy family. His father was the CEO of a major company and his mother worked as a high powered lawyer. Justin’s parents prioritized their careers over their son, so he spent most of his free time growing up in the family library learning all he could. He was a good kid, but with his glasses and awkwardness in social situations he sometimes came off a bit snobbish.

Garrick Wood was a young half-blood boy from Northern Ireland. His dad was originally from France and went to Beauxbatons Academy, but he met his muggle mom in her home of Northern Ireland and fell in love with her and the country. So Garrick spoke French and a fair bit of Gaelic, but he was the first of his family to go to Hogwarts. He was a slim boy with unruly curly blonde hair and a permanent smirk.

Theodore and Amos Bletchley were twin members of the pure blood Bletchley family, and their father was a rising figure in the Wizengamot. The Bletchleys had never been considered elitists— caring more about knowledge than power. As such, nearly every Bletchley to attend Hogwarts had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and Theodore and Amos were proud to carry on their family’s tradition. Individually, Theodore and Amos were both very different people, despite being identical in appearance. Theodore loved history and was perfectly capable of spending hours watching documentaries or walking around a museum. Amos, on the other hand, loved popular culture and could spend days immersed in a television show or other cultural event. They teased each other often, but at the end of the day they would never let anyone hurt the other. On more than one occasion Theodore had been drawn into a fistfight in defense of Amos.

On Sunday morning at breakfast an owl dropped a letter onto Hermione’s plate. Surprised that anybody would be writing to her, she opened it cautiously, but grinned widely when she saw the contents. It was a note from Severus and it read:

_Hermione,_

_Our first weekly meeting will go Wednesday evening at 7pm in my office. We will be learning about difficult to collect and obscure Potions ingredients, as well as performing the Shield Charm. Do your reading and come prepared to work. Oh, and of course this does not excuse you from any homework you may have. I suggest you work ahead._

_Yours,  
SS_

Noticing Hermione’s happy expression, Theodore asked “What’s that?” Hermione realized that she didn’t know if she was allowed to tell them about her advanced lessons, but decided to anyway. They were her friends.

“When I was here over the summer I spent a lot of time brewing potions and teaching myself spells. Professor Snape supervised my potions brewing sometimes, and he became something of a mentor in that way. When he realized how far ahead I already am in classes he offered to give me weekly lessons. My first one is on Wednesday.” Hermione beamed at her friends, and they were happy to see her smiling.

“That sounds awesome, Hermione! You’ll have to promise to tell us if you do anything super cool or advanced.” Suzanne chimed in.

Hermione chuckled and said “I will, but according to this note we’re just going to be doing some Potions stuff and going over the Shield Charm this week. You might have to wait a while for anything advanced.”

“Maybe so, but when you start apparating and reading minds I expect to be taught _everything_.”

“You got it, Suzanne.”

The Convocation’s going to breakfast as a group on Sunday continued into Sunday lunch and dinner, and by the time Monday morning rolled around it was an unspoken rule that none of them went to the Great Hall until they were all together. They walked down in a disorganized gaggle, and when they sat down they did five across from five at the end of the Ravenclaw table. They got some odd looks every time they moved in a group, but they ignored everyone and focused on themselves.

The first few days of the week were mostly uneventful for Hermione. She didn’t sleep solidly through the nights, but she at least didn’t have any major nightmares. On Tuesday she had to go to Severus’s office during study period to take her first Wolfsbane of the month, but that was the only terribly unpleasant thing of her week.

She read up on the Shield Charm, which seemed fairly straightforward, and checked out a book called “Rare Potions” from the library. Since she was already two weeks ahead in all of her classes due to her insomnia the week before, Hermione used her evening study time to prepare what she needed for her meeting with Severus.

Finally, dinner on Wednesday arrived and Hermione was only an hour away from working with Severus. The Convocation walked down to the Great Hall together as usual and sat down, but Hermione was clearly a ball of nerves and excitement. She checked her bag three times in five minutes to make sure she had her books and writing material and nearly panicked when it took her a few seconds to find her quill where it had slid to the bottom. She bounced her leg at a rapid pace until Brock looked at her from his position to her right and said “Hermione! Stop bouncing. You have literally no reason to be nervous.”

Hermione did stop bouncing but she looked at Brock in exasperation and asked “How do you know that? Maybe he’ll be so disappointed in my performance that he’ll cancel our lessons.”

“Dude you’ve read everything I think was ever written about the Shield Charm. And you have like five pages of notes about rare potions ingredients. Somehow I think you’ll be alright.” Brock shook his head at Hermione’s antics, but like the others in The Convocation, he was happy to see her genuinely excited about something.

Despite his best efforts, Brock’s talk did nothing to calm Hermione’s nerves, and so it was that at 6:50 Hermione rose from the table in a shaky manner. After The Convocation wished her good luck and gave her reassurances, she walked from the Great Hall and started making her way toward Severus’s office in the dungeon.

Five minutes later Hermione arrived in front of Severus’s office and hesitated for a minute before knocking loudly three times. Then, from within, “Enter.”

Hermione had only been in Severus’s office very briefly before, so this time she took a moment to process everything. His desk was made of some kind of dark wood and was large and imposing in the middle of the room. In front of the desk was one small spindly chair, and Hermione imagined that many terrified students had sat in it.

Like the rest of the dungeon level of Hogwarts, Severus’s office was cold and damp. Unlike the classrooms, though, he had a roaring fire burning in the fire place. Every inch of wall space was covered by shelves, and there was a towering cupboard in the far corner. A little more than half of the shelves were lined with books, while the rest of them were covered with a mix of strange objects, including jars with what Hermione suspected were organs suspended in green or blue fluid. The room was well lit with candles floating at regular intervals, and overall Hermione found the room perfect for Severus.

Finishing her visual sweep of the room, Hermione was relieved to see Severus sitting at a small table to the side of the room with an extra chair for her—she was really hoping she wasn’t going to have to sit in the intimidating chair. Walking over to where he sat and taking her seat when he motioned for her to do so, Hermione’s nerves disappeared and were replaced by a sense of anticipation.

“I presume you did the reading I asked you to do?”

Hermione nodded.

“Good. The plan for tonight is to cover 15-20 rare ingredients in great detail—including where to acquire it, which potions it is used in, and how to visually identify it. After that we will learn and practice the most simple defensive spell—the shield. While simple, if performed correctly and with sufficient strength the shield can protect you from nearly every offensive spell. Now, what can you tell me about the Acromantula?”

“Native to the rainforests of Southeast Asia, the Acromantula is a species of giant spider that is believed to have been created by the magical community before the ban on experimental breeding. They can reach up to fifteen feet in diameter in their adulthood and are extremely social creatures, living in colonies led by the eldest male or female spider. They are sentient creatures and are capable of human speech, but are well recorded as being inhospitable to humans—often attempting or succeeding in eating us.”

Hermione racked her brain to think if she left anything out, and then added “And their venom is highly poisonous and also very valuable, historically going for over 100 galleons per pint. I assume that’s what is relevant for tonight’s lesson?”

“The venom is going to be our main study, yes, but everything you just said is important. Most adults who dabble in the art of potion making buy all of their ingredients from established sellers, who are of course able to manipulate the market and prices. Students are the same, collecting their ingredients from established places of business. If one wants to achieve their Mastery in Potions and make a career of it, however, purchasing ingredients is simply not a fiscally responsible or sustainable move. This leads to many of us acquiring our own ingredients. I have a flourishing garden in Greenhouse 3 where I grow most of my plant ingredients, and I frequently travel on holiday to foreign lands for rare supplies.” Hermione nodded along, it made sense.

“If a Potions Mastery is something you may one day wish to pursue, an awareness of the collection methods for certain ingredients is essential. So let’s go back to what you said about the Acromantula. You were exactly right when you said that Acromantulas have a rather strong craving for human flesh and are very hostile toward our species. This, obviously, makes collecting their venom a bit difficult. Unlike with some creatures, the venom of the Acromantula does not need to be extracted while it is alive. The venom does, however, dry up shortly after death. This means that the best time to collect the venom is when?”

“Hmm. Immediately after death, so the Acromantula isn’t aggressive and its venom is still there.”

“Exactly right. That small window is tough enough on its own, but when you tack on the rarity of finding an Acromantula at all, and their habit to live in colonies and eat one another after death, it becomes nigh on impossible. Which is one of the reasons the venom is so expensive.”

Severus stood up and walked to the huge cupboard. Opening it and grabbing something from a bottom shelf, he came back to their table holding two vials of a cloudy white substance. Handing one to Hermione and holding the other up to the light, Severus said “This is Acromantula venom. Notice the cloudy white color and the constant motion of the liquid. This venom is fairly distinct from most other ingredients, but if you ever need to test a counterfeit,” Severus removed the cork on his vial, “Touch a drop of it to your skin.”

Hermione gasped as he tilted the vial enough for him to quickly touch the venom before recorking it. Grimacing slightly in pain, Severus held up his finger for Hermione to watch as it turned a light shade of blue where the Acromantula venom had touched it. “The venom is deadly if any of it is ingested or injected, but surface contacts are okay so long as they are small and brief.”

“When you touch true Acromantula venom it is a very distinct and mildly painful reaction, and it turns the site of contact this shade of blue. Some counterfeits are able to produce the pain and the blue shade, but none I have ever encountered was able to mimic the distinct feeling Acromantula venom generates. Which is why I would like for you to make contact with it right now.”

A bit unsure, Hermione voiced her concern “You’re sure it’s safe?”

“I have touched Acromantula venom over a dozen times in my life. I assure you, there is no risk for permanent or serious injury.”

Trusting Severus, Hermione uncorked her own vial and tilted it enough for the venom to be in reach of the lip of the vial. Bracing herself and reaching out with one finger, Hermione made contact. She felt three waves of a shooting pain run from her feet to her head, followed by a sense of spiders crawling down her arms and legs. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped and Hermione looked down and saw a small blue dot on her finger. Looking up at Severus and recorking her vial, she said “I see what you mean, that wasn’t like anything I had felt before. Is it the same feeling for everyone?”

Severus took her vial and walked them back to the cupboard. While he was walking he responded to her question. “From conversations I’ve had with others, I gather that some features are fairly common but that everyone is different enough that counterfeiting an accurate Acromantula venom is nigh on impossible.”

“Now that you’ve been exposed to Acromantula venom, let’s keep moving down the list in alphabetical order. Next up is Ashwinder eggs. Tell me about the Ashwinder.”

“The Ashwinder is a grey serpentine creature that comes into existence through the embers of an untended magical fire. Seeing as how magical fires are quite common, they have no real limit to their habitat. Their life spans are less than an hour though, and as soon as they leave their fire their last action is to find somewhere to lay their eggs. I know that the eggs are used in love potions and can be frozen and swallowed whole as a cure for fever or malaria, but I was under the impression that they were fairly commonplace.”

“And you’re wondering why I’m including them in this lesson of advanced potions ingredients?” Severus asked in amusement and Hermione nodded.

“I appreciate your questioning attitude, and you’re exactly right. Ashwinder eggs are not terribly rare. Actually, I collected six from this castle just last week. The reason I included them in this lesson is that until the moment the eggs are frozen they are extremely volatile. Ashwinder eggs emit a great deal of heat, and within ten minutes of being laid they hatch. Now, since the Ashwinder is a creature of fire, the egg hatching is accompanied by an explosion of flame which has burned down more than a few buildings and injured a great many Potions Masters.”

Severus leaned across the table to grab a small blue box from the other side. “It is a good habit to develop, then, to always keep an eye out for Ashwinder trails. When an adult leaved their fire of origin to find a laying place, they leave a trail of ash in their wake. Whenever you are in a magical dwelling you should be very aware of this possibility.” He opened the box and pulled out a handful of frozen red eggs. “When you locate a trail you must move swiftly, and as soon as you encounter the eggs you need to freeze them immediately. Otherwise you may be find yourself in a burning building…or in a burning body.”

The next hour passed in the same way as they progressed through unique and interesting potions ingredients. Hermione got out her notebook and started jotting down notes as Severus spoke. She knew at least basic information about all of the ingredients he brought up and asked intelligent and pointed questions, something Severus very much wished all of his students did.

After the hour mark, Severus said “And this will be our last one for today since we need to move on to spell work soon. We’ll pick back up with graphorn horn next week.” Severus and Hermione put everything back in the cabinet and Severus magicked away their table to clear them some room.

“Now, onto the spell work portion of our evening. The Shield Charm is a highly overlooked and understressed piece of magic. In the pursuit of flashy and dramatic spells, many members of the magical community never master the basics. Even the strongest offensive wizard can lose a duel over the inability to properly erect a shield. Before I begin my instruction, I would like you to tell me what you already know about the spell.”

“Well, in its most basic form the Shield Charm creates an invisible barrier wherever the caster points their wand. Even a weak shield can deflect mild curses, but a shield of sufficient strength can deflect or severely diminish the effects of every curse except for the Killing Curse. What happens to a spell that hits a shield is variable—sometimes it rebounds in a random direction, sometimes it dissipates completely, and other times it actually rebounds onto the person who cast it. I suppose the important thing, though, is that it didn’t hit you. The verbalization for the Shield Charm is Protego.”

Severus nodded along as she spoke. “I see you did your reading, not that I’m surprised of course.” He offered her a head inclination of approval, which she took to mean he was quite happy with her.

“Here, place your wand on my desk. We’re going to start with basic wand and foot movements before we try it with the actual spell.” Hermione did as he instructed and stepped back to the open floor.

“The easiest way to learn this spell and to build up strength is to start with a solid base. Eventually you will be able to cast the Shield Charm while running, or jumping, or even falling, but you will learn the mental grounding needed for that by first getting comfortable with physical grounding. I want you to face away from me at a 45 degree angle with your dominant foot forward.”

Hermione again did as he instructed and waited for the next step. “Good. Now put a slight bend in your knees and hips. Good. Feel your weight distribution right now. Shift it to your heels is you can, but no further forward than your midfoot if you can’t. I want you to feel the ground under your feet. Feel how solid it is. Imagine yourself as immovable, as part of the ground beneath you.”

Severus walked toward Hermione as he spoke and was soon standing directly next to her. “Are you grounded?” Hermione nodded. “We’ll see.”

With no warning Severus reached over and gave Hermione a moderate shove on her right shoulder. Not expecting the shove, Hermione lost her concentration and had to take a step back. “Reset and ground yourself. I should not be able to move you. Remember, you are part of the ground, an extension of the stone.”

Once again with no warning Severus shoved Hermione, but this time only her upper body moved. “Much better. Now I want you to close your eyes so you can’t see where I’m going to shove. This will force you to truly ground and not just lean into the side of contact.”

Hermione complied, sinking a little bit lower into her stance and trying to imagine herself as part of the stone floor. She felt the weight of her heels pressing into the floor and allowed that to become her sole focus. Severus pushed from random sides and with varying force, and a few minutes later he was satisfied that Hermione was sufficiently grounded.

“Open your eyes. Now we’re going to add in the wand movement and incantation. The best way to cast a Shield Charm is by raising your wand swiftly in a parrying motion. Like this.” Severus demonstrated the motion. “To start with I want you to face me and parry, making sure to stay grounded and to keep your dominant foot forward. Do it a few times now.”

Hermione angled toward him and raised her arm in the same motion he had. “Okay, but do it faster. Remember, you’re trying to block an attack. Imagine that you’re physically slapping away their spell.” Hermione did it again, “Better” and again, “Very good.”

“Now I’m going to have you close your eyes again and I’m going to make noises from various places around you. When you hear a loud sound I want you to quickly turn your body and make the parrying motion. Remember to stay grounded.” Hermione nodded and closed her eyes, imaginary wand at the ready.

Severus grabbed his wand and sent small bangs in a circle around Hermione, starting with about five seconds between them and increasing to one second between noises. “Now as you’re doing this I want you to start saying the incantation. You don’t have to shout it, but say it with some volume and a lot of force. And remember, stay grounded.”

Continuing his exercise, Severus watched with satisfaction as Hermione took his instruction well and stayed grounded while turning, parrying, and saying “Protego.” After only another two minutes of that he told her to open her eyes and retrieve her wand.

“Everything you just did—saying grounded, parrying sharply like you’re slapping away a spell, and speaking forcefully—are the keys to a strong Shield Charm. I’m going to start slowly by sending basic jinxes and hexes from directly in front of you. I’ll verbalize for the first three, but after that I’m going to use only non-verbal spells. I’d rather you learn when somebody is about to attack you from watching body language than learn from listening to words.” He positioned himself two to three meters in front of Hermione and asked “Are you ready?”

Hermione gripped her wand tightly, feeding off of its excitement and energy, and responded with a confident “Yes.” Grounding herself, she waited patiently for Severus to attack.

“Impedimenta!” Severus cast in her direction. Before he had even finished the word Hermione was forcefully saying “Protego” and raising her arm sharply. When she saw a flash of light in front of her from his jinx bouncing off of her shield she almost stopped in happiness, but when he started raising his arm again she refocused.

“Flipendo!” Again Hermione successfully blocked it, allowing herself a second to refocus after. “Expelliarmus!” Hermione blocked it once more. Then Severus switched to nonverbal spells. Hermione wasn’t sure what he was casting, but she was in no hurry to find out and did her best to shield strongly and remain grounded.

As time went on Severus started to increase the speed of his casting, and soon Hermione was barely keeping up. When she felt her wand give a little tug forward Hermione knew that she must have just narrowly blocked an attempt to disarm her and she began to feel a sense of panic. She was parrying and saying “Protego” as fast as she could, but it felt like whenever she opened her mouth he was already on the next one. So in a moment of desperation she raised her arm without saying anything.

And she cast a perfect Shield Charm. Her wand knew her intention and did what she wanted without her having to verbalize or even clearly think the incantation. Able to move faster now, Hermione kept up with Severus’s casting much faster. He began to move from side to side, and she managed to feel grounded even as she was moving. She found that the feeling of being grounded came more from an emotional and mental state than from any kind of physical contact.

It took Severus another few spells to realize that Hermione had stopped verbalizing. Shocked, he cast a few more to confirm, and sure enough she was non-verbally shielding. So he stopped and stared at her for a moment before bluntly saying “You’re casting non-verbally.”

Worried she was in trouble, Hermione quickly said “Yes, and I know you didn’t tell me I could, but it was just so much faster and easier not to have to say the incantation. I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to.”

Severus actually let out a small laugh at that. “You’re worried I’m angry with you? Of course I’m not. I’m in awe of you. It takes most six years the better part of a semester to be able to cast even one non-verbal spell, some even longer. How…How are you casting so fluently?”

“Well,” Hermione shrugged, “my wand knows what my intention is even if I don’t say or think the incantation. I just thought about needing to cast faster by not speaking and it kept up with my thoughts.” Then, remembering Minerva and Ollivander’s dramatic reactions to discovering her connection to wands, Hermione added “I kind of have a rapport with wands, especially with mine. It’s just a thing I can do.”

Sensing that Hermione wasn’t open to answering questions about her curious gift, Severus didn’t push for specifics. Instead he just said “That is an incredible gift to have. And actually, Hermione, if you don’t mind I’d like you to try the other spells you know non-verbally.”

“Right now?” “Yes, right now.”

Hermione and her wand readied themselves, and Hermione proceeded to flawlessly cast all of her spells nonverbally. Looking up at Severus when she was done, he said “Remarkable.”

“Hermione, I’d like you to start trying all of your spells nonverbally. Really the only reason we learn verbal incantations is because it provides an easy stepping stone on the way to nonverbal casting. Of course there are a number of spells that require vocalization, but for the rest of them I’d like you to remain silent. Can you do that?”

Hermione nodded. It might get her a bit more attention in class, but she saw Severus’s point. Nonverbal casting really was superior.

“Good, and keep me updated on your progress. And since it is now after 9 I think it’s time to send you back to Ravenclaw Tower. Next week we will continue with the format of today, but I need to reevaluate my spell lesson progression. I shall inform you during Friday’s Potions lesson what spells you need to read up on before next week. If you’re feeling too ill next Wednesday, seeing as how it’s the day after the full moon, let me know and we can move it back.”

“Will do. Thanks for doing all of this for me.”

“The pleasure is all mine, believe me.”

As Hermione walked to the door and opened it, her head swimming with new knowledge and a sense of accomplishment, Severus called out one last time. “Excellent work tonight, Hermione.”


	18. Bullies

Hermione returned to the Ravenclaw Common Room shortly after 9 and immediately beelined for the boys’ dorm. She knew that they would all be waiting up for her, and the thought made her pleasantly warm. Climbing the stairs quickly, she burst into the First Years’ room and was surprised by what she saw. Surprised, but not shocked.

The Convocation had moved what looked like every comfortable chair from the Common Room into their room and were sprawled around in various poses of study, thought, and relaxation. When she came in they perked up and Suzanne called out “Tell us what happened!”

There were noises of agreement but Hermione was a bit too distracted by the state of the room to answer straight away. After a beat she said “I’ll tell you what happened on my end if you tell me what happened on yours.” She cast a pointed look around the room. “Why does it look like you moved half of the Common Room in here?”

Garrick laughed and answered with his characteristic sly smirk. “Because we did. Every Convocation needs a nesting area, right?”

“Erm, yeah…” Hermione trailed off as she more thoroughly examined the room. There were a few more chairs than there were people, and a few rugs (also from the Common Room) and a mass of blankets from their beds scattered the floor. 

“Now tell us what happened!” Suzanne lost her patience and looked at Hermione expectantly. 

Shaking her head at Suzanne’s impatience, Hermione said “We went over potions ingredients for an hour and then worked on the Shield Charm for the rest of the time. He ran some drills to make sure I had my footing and the wand movement right and then kind of rapid fire shot spells at me while I blocked them. It was actually a lot of fun.”

“I guuuessss that sounds fun. I was hoping for something a bit more exciting though.” Brock pouted like a big baby and Hermione took pity on him. 

“Well, there may have been a bit of nonverbal casting… on both of our ends.” Everyone’s impressed and shocked faces whipped to her instantly, but their inevitable onslaught of questions was stopped by the door opening and an angry Daniel the prefect strolling in. 

Daniel looked around the room with his hands on his hips and his lips thinned in what was probably his best McGonagall impression. “Would any of you care to enlighten me as to why every good chair from the Common Room has somehow found its way here to you?”

The Convocation had the decency to look at least mildly abashed and it was Garrick who responded. “We… may have taken them. When we left dinner early.” He smiled at Daniel in what he hoped was an adorably innocent expression. “I mean, you never technically said we couldn’t take chairs…” He trailed off when Daniel’s eyes narrowed. 

“I shouldn’t have to tell you something as obvious as that. I expect the Common Room to be returned to its original state by the time I have my free period tomorrow. Understood?”

They all nodded and Daniel’s gaze softened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a book before dropping it on the floor and exiting the room. Hermione, being the only one standing, stepped forward and picked it up. Looking at it and grinning, she held it out for everyone to see. “ _Furniture Transfiguration: How to Draw Up a Chair Everywhere_ ”

After some excited murmuring and a few insistences at trying it that night, cooler heads prevailed and they decided to go to bed and revisit making furniture later. Hermione kept the book, and when she got back to the girls’ dorm she tapped her trunk with her wand, whispered “Felix Felicis” and tossed the book inside. 

That night, feeling accomplished, supported, and more than a bit worn out, she slept dreamlessly for the first time in a long time. Thursday started off well, but as she moved through the halls between classes she couldn’t help but to feel eyes on her. 

Once, after lunch, she rounded a corner with the Convocation and ran right into two Gryffindor first year girls. They looked at her in distaste and quietly whispered to themselves while casting her glances. Feeling uneasy, Hermione drew closer to her friends and kept walking. Similar incidents happened a few more times throughout the day, and by the end of her last class she was ready for it to stop.

The worst part of it was not knowing if she was being paranoid or not. She was so used to kids her age bullying her or wanting nothing to do with her-- was she projecting those expectations onto these random Gryffindors? Somehow she didn’t think she was, but then she remembered how she had thought the Convocation was plotting against her at first and her assurance crumbled. 

She went to dinner and hung out with the Convocation before bed, even retrieving the furniture transfiguration book and starting to go through it with them. She managed to forget her worries for the time being, and her last thought as she drifted off to sleep was that maybe she was just being silly and paranoid. 

Friday morning found Hermione waking up just before 6 and being unable to fall back asleep, so she headed down to the Common Room to wait out the rest of her group. She was pleasantly surprised to see that all of the stolen items had been returned in the night-- the boys must have brought it all down after the girls went to bed.

Walking toward the Legacy, she started looking through books at random and was astonished by the breadth there. There were books in every genre and from every literary period, both muggle and magical. There was also, she was amused to see, no organization to the order of books. She was sure Madam Pince would be appalled, but she actually found it kind of fitting.

Just as Hermione stopped to appreciate the juxtaposition of a book on Ancient Wizarding Rites sitting next to a copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , she was brought out of her thoughts by a voice to her left. “You know, I was quite happy when they started this tradition.”

Hermione turned and found herself face to face with Helena Ravenclaw. Smiling at the ghost, Hermione nodded her agreement. “It truly is remarkable.”

“My mother would have been proud.” Helena’s voice was tinged with sadness and Hermione merely nodded and remained quiet. They perused the shelf together for a while, Helena telling Hermione interesting stories about the kids who put each book there. 

After laughing at a particularly absurd story, Hermione said “Your memory is remarkable, Helena. Is that a ghost thing or a you thing?” Then, realizing she maybe shouldn’t have pointed out Helena’s dead status, Hermione winced.

Helena merely glided back to her from a few shelves up and smiled though. “It’s definitely a me thing. A gift and a curse, really.”

“Oh?” Hermione looked at her curiously.

“Yes. I’ve always been able to remember everything with perfect detail. It served me well during my schooling days, but since then I’m afraid it has caused me nothing but pain.”

A bit of uncertainty still in Hermione’s eyes, Helena elaborated. “Imagine being able to recall with vivid detail every bad thing that has ever happened to you.” When Hermione flinched at the mere thought, Helena nodded grimly. 

“I had hoped that over the years the memories would fade, but alas, they have not. I still remember every wrong I ever did against my mother, I still feel his rage and my pain as his knife drives into me again and again…” Helena made a choked crying sound and looked at Hermione apologetically. “Forgive me child, you don’t need to know all of that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You don’t need to apologize for feeling things, Helena. It sounds like you’ve been through quite a lot in your life… and afterlife.”

Smiling sadly again, Helena looked toward the dormitory door as sounds were coming through it. “Thank you, Hermione. You are truly an unusual child-- in the absolute best way possible.”

Helena glid away just as the dormitory door burst open and the male members of the Convocation barrelled into the Common Room. Glancing at the time she was alarmed to see that she had been talking to Helena for nearly an hour and it was now only a bit too early for breakfast. 

“Told you she would be down here!” Brock nudged Garrick, who rolled his eyes in response.

“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I decided to come down here.” Then, to direct their questions away from her sleeping difficulties, Hermione looked around and said “I see you returned everything to its original place.”

Brock grinned at her but then quickly pouted at the other boys present. “They made me carry _everything_. So not fair.” Amos looked at Hermione with a serious expression and moved to stand directly next to Brock. “Look at him,” Amos gestured to Brock’s massive size for an 11 year old, “and then look at me” Amos gestured to his skinny arms and narrow chest. “Now tell me it doesn’t make more sense for him to carry most of the stuff.”

Hermione met Amos’s gaze in amusement and then looked at Brock, who was still puppy dog pouting. “He has a point, Brock.” Brock let out a good natured cry of “Treachery!” before dropping into one of the nearby chairs.

More students began to mill the Common Room, but before too long the female members of the Convocation entered and they were set to leave. Noticing the concerned looks the girls all gave her after waking up without her in the dorm again, Hermione gave them as reassuring a smile as she could. None of them seemed totally at ease, but they did fall into the group and move down to breakfast without vocalizing any question. 

The Convocation had Potions on Friday morning, which Hermione obviously thoroughly enjoyed. A minute or two before class was dismissed, Severus called out “Hermione, if you would please stay after.”

Class ended and Hermione walked up to Severus’s desk expectantly. Severus looked over her shoulder and rolled his eyes in exasperation when he saw all 9 of her classmates waiting for her. He took out a piece of parchment from his top desk drawer and handed it to her. 

“This is what we’re working on next Wednesday. As always I expect you to be prepared, but” he leaned closer and lowered his voice “remember that if you need to bump it back a few days because of the moon then I will not object. Your health is more important than any small delay in our lessons.” He looked her in the eye to express the seriousness of his statement and then stood back and nodded toward the door. “You are dismissed.” Hermione beamed at him as she moved toward the door, the rest of the Convocation falling into step behind and beside her. 

Lunch was actually a bit better than average, in Hermione’s opinion, but she was starting to feel uncomfortable again. Looking over at the Gryffindor table she thought she saw several pairs of eyes staring at her, but they turned away too quickly for her to be sure. When lunch ended, Hermione sighed deeply. Double Herbology with the Gryffindors was bound to tell her whether their animosity was real or imagined. 

They were working on removing the mucus plugs and repotting a few non-dangerous but highly gross plants that Friday in Herbology. Hermione was at a table of four with Martine, Brock, and Gwendoline and she was finding the gross work not so bad with their friendly banter. 

She left the table to go grab another trowel from the greenhouse supply close. On her way up she got hit in the arm with a wayward mucus plug. Looking to where it came from she saw a table with Gryffindor first year girls. Hermione was pretty sure their names were Olivia, Justine, Agrona, and Karen. Karen called out “Sorry!” in an insincere way and the other girls all laughed with her. 

Hermione retrieved the trowel and tried to ignore her fears, but every time she looked up she saw them laughing and casting glances her way. Meanwhile, Martine, who was used to being thrown snide comments and barely noticeable aggressions by her pureblood family, narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 

Class ended and Hermione was relieved that it was without further incident. She exited the greenhouse with the Convocation trailing a little bit behind her. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she was in the process of turning to look back at the door when Agrona shoulder checked her hard and sent her to the ground. Agrona quietly hissed “bushy haired freak,” spat on the ground inches away from Hermione, and kept walking. 

Hermione remained exactly where she had landed on the ground as memories started to wash over her. Feeling like Helena for a minute, every school bully and tormentor flashed through her mind in an instant and she was plagued by one thought-- nothing had changed. Everyone still hated her. She hugged her knees to her chest and kept her gaze down-- looking at them usually only made the torment worse, in her experience.

She was pulled from her downward spiral when a bag hit the ground next to her and Martine’s angry voice called out “Oi! What was that!?” at Agrona’s retreating back. Agrona giggled and said “Nothing, just a little accident. Your friend should watch where she’s going.” 

Martine narrowed her eyes and practically shook with anger. “I’m not playing games with you. I know something happened. Now tell me, what the _fuck_ did you say to her?” A small crowd had gathered by this point and were watching the confrontation with interest. 

Agrona made eye contact with Karen and rolled her eyes before turning to glare at Martine. “Jeez, calm down. All I did was call her the freak she really is.”

The entire Convocation was outside by this point, and they all reached for their wands at the same time. Martine, ever the quick draw, was faster than the others and shouted “Fernunculus” at Agrona before the other girl could even react. As Agrona’s body erupted into boils, Martine said “Count yourself lucky I didn’t do worse. No one, and I mean no one,” she glared around at the other Gryffindors, “attacks or insults the Convocation without meeting the other end of my wand.”

Justice served in her mind, Martine turned around to go to Hermione, who was looking at her with awed and grateful eyes. Karen, however, had other ideas and she drew her wand and shouted “Stupefy” at Martine’s retreating back. Hermione saw an attack coming at the only person who had ever defended her from a bully and she acted without thinking and nonverbally cast a Shield Charm, which dissipated Karen’s stunner.

Everyone looked at her in shock at her nonverbal spellwork, but their shock disappeared quickly as Olivia and Karen each shot another hex. Hermione blocked them effortlessly again-- she was running on autopilot and was suddenly very thankful for Severus’s lesson. The Convocation grinned as another spell bounced off of Hermione’s shield, but their grins dropped when they heard a dangerously low voice say “One of you is going to explain what just happened. Now.” Pomona Sprout had never looked quite so scary to those First Years. 

Karen jumped on the chance and said pointed at Martine to say “She attacked Agrona! I was just defending us when she tried to attack again.”

Pomona’s eyes narrowed at the obvious lie-- she had been at the door of the greenhouse when Karen tried to curse Martine behind her back. Before Pomona could say any of this, though, Ginny Weasley said “Oh that’s not true and you know it, so do us all a favor and shut up would you?” A few of the Gryffindor boys nodded in agreement with Ginny.

“Then what, pray tell, did happen here Ms. Weasley? And be very specific.” 

Ginny took a breath. “Specific, okay. Karen, Agrona, and them were making fun of Hermione all class and even threw a mucus plug at her when she wasn’t looking. When we were leaving Agrona pushed Hermione down and called her a bushy haired freak. I think she spat on her too. Martine confronted her but she kept insulting Hermione and provoking her so Martine fired a spell.” Ginny looked at Martine in admiration then, it seemed that she approved of her choice of action. “She only fired once and turned to walk away and check on Hermione, calling it even, but then Karen tried to attack her behind her back. Hermione blocked it with a super cool nonverbal shield, and then she blocked again when they kept firing. Then you came up.” 

“Professor” she tacked on as an afterthought. 

Pomona looked around at the assembled students and asked “Is that true?”

Everyone from both houses nodded, save for the four Gryffindor girls who were currently glaring at Ginny dangerously. Pomona sighed and said “Very well. Once Agrona recovers she will be joining me in detention for name calling, provocation, and pushing Hermione.” Pomona cast the Gryffindor girls a warning glance when they opened their mouths to protest. 

“Ms. Oleph,” she looked at Martine, “I don’t want you to think that violence is the answer, but in light of the circumstances and your clear provocation I think I’ll let it slide this time. But next time call for a professor, okay?” Martine nodded in surprise and relief at not getting in trouble and moved to help Hermione to her feet. Hermione clung to her shakily even after she stood and Martine allowed the contact without question or comment. 

Pomona looked suddenly very serious. “Which brings us to you, Karen. Attacking someone behind their back is one of the most cowardly and low acts a person can do. I would have expected more from a Gryffindor. I not only will expect you in my detention, but I will be reporting this incident to your head of house and she will punish you as she deems fit. Now, if you will help Agrona to the Hospital Wing, I’m sure she would appreciate having those boils removed.”

Hermione didn’t say a word in response to any of her fellow eagles as they walked back to the castle and up to Ravenclaw tower. When they got to the Common Room they all headed up to the boys’ dorm and Hermione followed along meekly. 

The Convocation clearly wanted to rage about what had just happened, but Hermione’s state was alarming them and so they stayed quiet and watched her warily. Little did they know that memories, self-doubt, and confusion were all swirling around in her head and battling for dominance. She was beyond grateful that Martine had defended her, but the entire incident made her extremely distraught. If there were people who already hated her and thought she was a freak from one panic attack, how would they ever view her if they found out she was a werewolf? Her friends understood her mental issues, but would they understand if they found out she was a monster? She doubted it. But Martine did defend her… 

It was these thoughts that made her appear like she was in a zombie state and worried her friends so much. “Hermione?” Suzanne tentatively called out. When Hermione still didn’t acknowledge them, their worry increased tenfold. Throwing caution to the wind in her fear, Martine got up and walked over to Hermione. 

When she reached out to touch her knee Brock said “Don’t! She doesn’t like to be touched.” Martine glared at him and then waved her hand in front of Hermione’s face, demonstrating that she wasn’t responding. She hissed out “Do you have a better idea?” and when he shook his head she grabbed Hermione’s knee.

It wasn’t immediate, but soon Hermione focused on Martine’s hand and then up at her face. She furrowed her brows in confusion and whispered “Why did you defend me?”

Martine, confused by the out of the blue question, looked at Hermione like she had grown a third eye and said “Because you’re my friend and a member of my family. I told you once that I would tear this school apart if anyone hurt any of you, and I meant it.”

Hermione’s confusion didn’t wane and she still looked a bit hazy as she said “But I’m bad, I’m not worthy of your affection. I’m a -” Then, eyes widening and snapping fully awake with the realization of what she was about to reveal, Hermione gasped and sat up straight, pulling her leg away from Martine’s hand. 

Looking around the room and then glancing at the time she realized that she should probably go take her Wolfsbane. Which also conveniently provided her with an excuse to leave the tense room. She jumped to her feet and said “I have to go.”

Brock called out to her as she fled from the room. “Wait! Will you be back for dinner? I promise we won’t ask you questions or anything.”

Desperate to get out of the room but still very much aware of the pleading and pained tone of Brock’s voice, she paused and said “Yeah. I just… can’t be in here right now.” Hermione’s own pain sounded much thicker than his own and Brock was left standing in confusion and guilt, thinking he somehow failed Hermione. 

When she got to Severus’s office she knocked and entered and saw him sitting at his desk grading papers. “Ah, Hermione!” When she stepped further into the room though, his pleased tone quickly changed to one of concern. To a stranger she probably looked fine, but to Severus she looked like someone had sucked the light out of her eyes. “What happened?”

She sighed and met his gaze briefly before looking down. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now. You can ask Pomona if you really want to know.” When Severus didn’t offer further comment she prompted him “My Wolfsbane…?”

Not looking happy at not getting an answer, Severus nonetheless gave her the potion and allowed her to leave unharassed. Then he marched straight to Pomona’s office and rapped sharply. She called “Come in” in a weary tone and looked only mildly surprised to see him standing there. 

Without being invited to sit, Severus plopped himself in a chair and bluntly asked “What happened to Hermione?” Pomona rubbed her eyes in tiredness and said “If you could wait just another minute or two Minerva should be joining us and it would save me from having to tell it twice.” 

“Why is Minerva coming?”

“The...incident… involved several of her students.”

Severus’s eyes tightened as he waited for Minerva to arrive, and was satisfied when she came through the door less than a minute later.

“I came as soon as I got your message Pomona. Now, what’s going on?”

Pomona looked at each of them before leaning back in her seat and talking. “A group of Gryffindor girls has been bullying Hermione, and I got to see it first hand today.”

Severus practically growled as he briefly flashed back to his own Gryffindor tormentors, but he forced himself to remain in the present for Hermione. Minerva gasped and clutched at her neck. “ _Gryffindors?_ ”

Nodding, Pomona continued to explain. It seems that four out of five of the Gryffindor first year girls are involved. Excluding Ginerva.”

“Today they threw a mucus plug at Hermione during class, and then when they were all leaving Agrona physically pushed Hermione to the ground, called her a bushy haired freak, and spat at her.”

Severus and Minerva were both practically vibrating with anger at this point, but they said nothing and waited for Pomona to finish her retelling. 

“Martine immediately rose to Hermione’s defense and confronted Agrona, but Agrona kept insulting Hermione and provoked Martine to attack her. She only sent one jinx and only hit Agrona before calling it fair and warning anyone else off from attacking a member of her family, and then she turned around to help Hermione. Hermione was still sitting on the ground and had seemed to kind of regress into herself.”

“Karen then attempted to attack Martine while her back was turned and she was caring for her friend.” 

At that Minerva sputtered “A member of _my_ house did such a thing? I’m appalled.”

“Yes, well, Hermione cast several perfect nonverbal shield charms from her spot on the ground and stopped Karen’s first spell and hers and the other Gryffindor girls next spells. Then I finally managed to make it to the scene and put a stop to it all. Karen tried to lie to me, but Ginerva gave me a truthful description of what happened and everyone else agreed.”

Severus had never been more grateful of anything in his life than the fact that he had drilled Hermione so hard on the Shield Charm. Minerva, with whom he had shared his lesson plan for Hermione, shared his gratitude and reached out a hand to briefly grip his. “Thank you for teaching her so well Severus.”

He merely nodded, uncomfortable with the display of emotion. Minerva released his hand and turned back to Pomona. “What do you recommend?”

“I already told them they will be serving detention with me, the Gryffindors anyway, but I also said that I would turn over the responsibility of true punishment to you. The way they behaved was disgusting, Minerva, and I’m sorry to say it, but I’m glad they’re in your house and not mine. I honestly don’t know what I would do.”

Minerva sighed and turned to Severus. “What about you? Any thoughts on punishment?”

“Severe” was all Severus said, and Minerva frowned in thought. 

“I’ll discuss this with Albus, but I’ll be starting with a 75 point deduction for each of them, detention twice a week for an unknown length of time, and grounding them over the Yule Holidays. I know that they’re only 11 years old, but for them to think that attacking someone in this way is acceptable… it’s something that needs to be remedied. I don’t know why they focused on Hermione, but even if they hadn’t they need to know that their behaviour is unacceptable.”

Severus looked up in alarm. “Wait. It was in your class that Hermione had her panic attack, right Pomona?” She nodded in response and Severus’s eyes hardened some more.

Minerva looked confused and asked “What is it Severus?”

“You said you didn’t know why they attacked Hermione. I do. They attacked her because of her panic attack. They saw her weakness and exploited it. This isn't some mutual schoolyard rivalry, it's one sided bullying. It's a power play-- one I'm intimately familiar with.” Severus tugged at his sleeves subconsciously and lapsed into angry silence.

Minerva and Pomona both looked at him with serious faces as understanding flashed through their eyes. Minerva spoke first “Let’s make it three times a week and 100 points each.”

Pomona and Severus each looked at her, and Pomona asked “You realize you just ruined any chance Gryffindor had at the House Cup, right?”

Nodding, Minerva’s lips thinned even further. “I take my beginning of year speech seriously, Pomona. While you’re at Hogwarts your House is your family, and any action you take reflects on your family. Four of my children saw someone with mental health issues and decided to target them with verbal and physical abuse, and then behaved as cowards by attacking when someone’s back was turned and lying to a professor. If they weren’t First Years I may very well have them expelled, but that is the only allowance I will give them for their youth. I believe that their actions should reflect very badly on their family, don’t you?”

Severus nodded and said “I would do the same. As would you, Pomona, if it came down to it.”

\---

Hermione had wandered around aimlessly trying to get her head on straight, and by the time it was dinner time she had mostly succeeded. She was still having a lot of doubts about herself, but she was at least aware of her surroundings and well enough to return to the Convocation. 

They looked at her in relief when she walked back into the boys’ dorm, but they kept Brock’s promise and didn’t drill her on questions. Dinner passed by uneventfully until someone shouted from the entrance hall “No way! What happened?”

People rushed out to get a look and soon the murmurs reached the Convocation. Gryffindor had lost 400 points in one day and was now in negative standings. As the Gryffindor table’s uproar grew louder, Hermione caught sight of Olivia and Karen glaring at her from across the way. She flinched and looked down. Minerva, who was sitting at the High Table and watching the hall, caught the exchange and clenched her fists. 

When the din became too much for any normal conversation to be had, she nodded to Albus, who pressed his wand to his throat and yelled “Silence!” supernaturally loud.

Albus spoke first. “I’m sure you all have questions about the sudden change in points, and if you can all retake your seats and remain calm, Professor McGonagall will explain.”

As everyone quietly filed back to their seats, Minerva stood up. “I am the one who took the points away from Gryffindor House." Ignoring the gasps that filled the hall, she continued. "I know that must be shocking to you, but allow me to explain and then I will welcome hearing any alternative solution you would have used.”

“When a fellow professor comes to you and tells you that four of your first year students targeted a person at their weakest, verbally and physically harassed and assaulted them, attacked someone with their back turned, blatantly lied to a professor about those actions, and then continue to attempt to intimidate their original victim… well, you have no other choice than to issue a harsh punishment.” A stunned silence overtook the hall and all heads turned toward the Gryffindor First Years, who of course looked at Olivia, Justine, Karen, and Agrona-- giving them away immediately. 

“So no, I do not relish in taking this many points away from my House and forfeiting the House Cup, but I will stand by the principles of my House and of Hogwarts before all else. Now please continue with your meal.”

Hermione looked up just as Minerva gave her a small smile and a wink, and her feelings got all sorts of out of whack again. She was confused as to why so many people were defending and protecting her. First Martine was willing to endanger herself and get in trouble for her, and now Minerva was willing to forfeit her own House’s chances at the House Cup? It was all too much to process at once. 

She turned and looked at the rest of the Convocation, who looked mostly pleased at the harsh punishment. Martine was looking at her with concern from a few seats away and Hermione shoved down her feelings of inadequacy for long enough to mouth “Thank you.”


	19. We're a Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Convocation reassures Hermione and the next moon sickness begins to set in.

Hermione spent the rest of Friday evening with the Convocation in their nest, but the air was much more subdued than normal. She responded to questions with one or two word answers and often lapsed into prolonged silences. 

She felt like she was being stupid-- everyone was defending her and for the first time in her life bullies had actually faced repercussions-- but she could not for the life of her shake her doubts. A life of solitude, neglect, and abuse from everyone around her gave her a sense that _something_ bad was going to happen. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But it wasn’t dropping, and that more than anything else made her uneasy.

By the time 9 o’clock rolled around she decided to cut her losses and go to bed. The eyes of everyone else in the Convocation followed her uneasily as she left the room, but, remembering what Madam Pomfrey said about giving her space, they let her go without saying anything more than “Good night.”

Hermione laid in bed for long enough to hear the other girls file in and fall asleep, and after another half hour she finally managed to fall asleep herself. Her sleep, however, was far from restless.

_It was Hermione’s 10th birthday and she was, as usual, reading by herself on the swing while the other kids were playing games at recess. Her mother hadn’t acknowledged her for over a year at this point, and it seemed that that neglect was going to carry through her birthday._

_Just then, one of her classmates ran over to her and said “Hermione come play with us!”_

_Hermione looked up at this kid, a boy named Billy, with a mix of suspicion and excitement. Nobody had ever asked her to play before._

_“What are you playing?”_

_“British Bulldog. Come on, it’s fun.”_

_Hermione looked over his shoulder at the field where a group of about 12 kids was standing and watching their exchange. She looked down at her book and took a deep breath. “Okay.” Allowing the part of her that wanted approval to overpower the part that advised safety in solitude, Hermione agreed._

_“Cool!”_

_Following Billy to the field, the other kids smiled at Hermione as she dropped her book to the side and moved to join them on the touchline. Billy was the first bulldog and he stood in the center of the field. “Remember, if I get you you become a bulldog too! Last man standing.”_

_“Go!”_

_Hermione and the other kids sprinted across the field, trying to dodge Billy’s wildly grasping arms. Making it to the other side safely, Hermione allowed herself a laugh as she turned and saw that Billy had managed to bring down two of the other kids._

_The next few minutes were the most fun Hermione had felt in a really long time. She dodged and ducked and laughed as she ran from one end of the field to the other. A few times she thought she escaped a bit too easily, but she was in too good a mood to really question it._

_Then it came down to Hermione and two other kids. Billy shouted “Go!” and they all took off, Hermione leading the way. She heard what sounded like the other kids getting caught and she ran faster. Suddenly the other touchline was only two meters away and she got excited thinking she was about to win._

_Then she felt a hand close around her collar and yank her to the ground. Hermione hit the ground hard enough to make all of her air leave her and tears spring to her eyes, but the kid who grabbed her merely stood over her and laughed._

_While she laid on the ground gasping and crying, the other kids formed a circle around her so that her vision was full of just their laughing faces. Joanna looked around and said “We’re clear” before stepping forward and kicking Hermione._

_“Aw, did poor little Hermione think she was going to win?”_

_“As if. You think we actually wanted to play with you?”_

_“You’re a skinny little nerd, nobody wants to play with you.”_

_Another kid stepped forward and gave her a kick to her side, laughing when she cried out in pain. Then Billy came into her view holding her book. He opened it and slowly started tearing out the pages and dropping them on her supine body. “Here are a few of your real friends. Happy birthday freak”_

_Then her dream warped from memory to nightmare as the kids above her became the Convocation. Brock threw the book at her and it busted her lip open. “I’m sick of having to take care of you Hermione.”_

_“Yeah, nobody likes little drama queens like you.” Amos spat down at her._

_Martine pulled out her wand and said “Fernunculus!,” making painful boils erupt over her entire body. “I should’ve used that spell on you instead of wasting it on Karen.”_

_Luna’s dreamy eyes focused on hers and said “You’re just a werewolf freak. What, you think I wouldn’t find out?”_

_They all pulled out their wands and started firing spells at her, and soon Hermione’s vision was filled with bright splashes of color. The color became brighter and brighter until it was a singular white light and Hermione was laying on her back in an open clearing with the full moon shining down on her._

_“No no no no no” she looked around frantically as her body erupted in the pain of transformation. Coming out of her transformation and landing on four legs she realized with relief that she had taken her Wolfsbane and was in full control. That relief was short lived, however, when she heard voices coming from the edge of the clearing._

_“Here it is!” Minerva came out of the treeline from Hermione’s right with her wand levelled right at her._

_“It’s not getting away this time.” Albus came up next to her, also with his wand drawn. Hermione tried to scream and tell them that it was her, that it was Hermione, but all she could do was make squeaking noises._

_“Stupefy!” Minerva yelled, and a stunner caught Hermione in the chest and sent her flying back. Frantically squeaking now in pain as she tried to tell them that she was Hermione and she took her Wolfsbane, Hermione was caught unprepared when Albus sent a stunner of his own._

_Flying back another few feet, Hermione managed to climb to her paws and try to escape from the other side of the clearing. But when she was still a few meters away from the treeline, Severus stepped out with his wand aimed between her eyes._

_“Don’t worry Albus, I’ve got it. It’s not going to be hurting anyone else.”_

_And as Hermione was screaming inside that she was Hermione, that she was the same Hermione that he gave private lessons to and told good job, his eyes narrowed in malice. He didn’t see her as anything other than a monster, and she was entirely unable to communicate._

_Albus’s voice sounded from behind her. “Do it.”_

_Minerva laughed as Severus regripped his wand in determination. Looking Hermione dead in the eyes, he said “Avada Kedavra!”_

_A green light filled her vision and she screamed in fear._

Jerking awake, Hermione sat up in bed and realized that she was actually screaming. She patted her body everywhere to check that she was both a human and alive, but was unable to calm her breathing. 

Hyperventilating and sobbing, Hermione scooted up until her back was against the headboard and her knees were hugged tight to her chest. “Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream” she mumbled to herself under her breath but soon stopped when her sobs became too much to talk through. 

She was making gasping sounds and had tears running down her face. Looking up and seeing moonlight coming through a gap in her curtain, she let out another strangled scream before she could control herself. Hermione pulled her knees further into her chest and banged her head back against the headboard, unable to get the look in Severus’s eyes out of her mind. 

Hearing rustling from outside her bed, Hermione cursed herself. She had woken up the other girls because she was too _stupid_ not to be able to control herself. They were probably just going to make fun of her anyway. That’s all anyone ever did. 

Hermione kept crying and gasping for air as a voice sounded from right outside her curtain. “Hermione, are you okay?”

Unable to answer, the only sound that could be heard was her audible sobbing. “Damn it. Hermione, I’m coming in.”

The curtains to her right suddenly part and Hermione was met with Gwendoline’s face. Gwendoline took in Hermione’s position with a quick once over and looked concerned but not pitying. Nodding once in a business-like way, Gwendoline gestures to the middle of the bed and asked “Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer Gwendoline hops onto Hermione’s bed and pulls the curtain mostly shut behind her, leaving just enough light for Hermione to make out her face. They sat in silence for a few beats and Hermione managed to quell her crying from gasping sobs to a few wet hiccups.

Gwendoline sat with her legs crossed and faced Hermione. “Hermione, none of us can even try to imagine what happens when you close your eyes. We haven’t been through what you have, and trying to pretend like we have would feel fake.”

Her voice was low and calming and Hermione found herself able to breath a bit easier. “So I can’t give you advice on what happens when you sleep and your eyes are shut. All I can do is tell you what happens when you open them.”

Gwendoline leaned forward and looked directly into Hermione’s eyes. “When you open your eyes you have us. No matter what bad thoughts or memories run through your mind when you close your eyes, we’ll be here for you when you open them. Nothing is ever going to change that, okay? Nothing.”

Hermione listened to Gwendoline’s speech in awe and reflected on her first few months as a member of the magical community. Of course there were mean people-- like the woman at St. Mungo’s and the Gryffindor bullies-- but they were no worse than what she had to deal with before. What was entirely new, though, were the number of people who supported her.

Minerva and Albus pulled her out of the life she was living and offered her a new home full of love and unconditional support. Minerva confronted her mother and held her through a panic attack. Albus offered his advice and wisdom and never made her feel like she was less than for what she was or what she had been through. Poppy gave her a safe haven and a judgement free zone. And Severus, well, Severus was incredible. He was patient and fair as an instructor and seemed to, on his own quiet level, truly care for her. 

Then there were her fellow Ravenclaws-- the Convocation. Never in her life had she known the acceptance and support of her peers, and it was an incredible feeling. But it still threw her for a loop. Realizing that she had been sitting with Gwendoline silently for a while now, Hermione looked up and met her patient gaze.

Throwing caution to the wind in her sleep deprived state, Hermione asked what she really wanted to know. “How… How do I know you aren’t all just playing a joke on me?”

Gwendoline’s eyes actually flashed angrily at that question and she replied “I don’t know who in the past has done that to you, Hermione, but I want to rip them apart for making you think that’s what friendly actions mean. I _promise_ that we won’t do that.” Hermione looked into Gwendoline’s eyes and saw nothing but seriousness and truth there, and she wanted to believe. She had never wanted to believe anything so much. 

Perhaps seeing Hermione’s desire to believe her, Gwendoline loudly said “Right, guys?”

Shocking Hermione, a chorus of agreeing answers came from the various spots around the room. It seemed that everyone was awake. 

Luna’s was the first answer to reach Hermione. “We’re friends. You can’t get rid of friends. Even if you try-- we aren’t going anywhere.”

Suzanne said “Our word may not mean much to you right now, Hermione, but just let our actions prove it to you. We’re not going anywhere, and we’re definitely not playing a trick on you.”

“And if I ever meet those kids who did that to you before you came here I’ll kick their asses for you.” Martine chimed in, surprising no one.

“You guys...You guys are serious?” Hermione asked incredulously. 

Gwendoline said “Absolutely. And I know for a fact the boys are too. Actually…” she trailed off in thought. “Anyone up for a field trip to the nest to get them to make their promises too?”

Before Hermione could object by asking what time it was, everyone loudly gave their agreement and started moving around the room. Quietly to Hermione, Gwendoline whispered “I know it’s early, but you need to hear this from everyone. And besides, waking up your brothers early in the morning is totally a familial rite of passage, no?”

So Hermione followed Gwendoline out of her bed and wiped off her tears as she tentatively smiled at the other girls who were all in their pajamas. 

“Bring some games and books and stuff too.”

“Ooh, and blankets and pillows!”

“I like where your minds are at.”

After supplies had been gathered, the girls all trudged down one flight and up the other side to the boys dorm. Walking in without knocking, the girls were met with the sight of a bleary eyed Justin walking back from the washroom. He stopped in his tracks and stared at them before asking “Am I awake right now?”

Martine, ever the tactful one, loudly answered “Yep! And you better stay that way, because you need to tell Hermione how awesome she is and then be ready to party.”

Shrugging in acceptance of Martine’s directive, Justin grabbed his blanket and tossed it on the ground before plopping down. The girls all bustled around noisily laying out blankets and games, and the boys slowly started to wake up. 

Brock was the first to pull back his curtain, and when he saw what was going on he yelled out “Hell yeah! Pre-breakfast party, I’m game.”

In a few minutes everyone was more or less awake and most of the candles around the room had been lit. Arranging themselves in a circle, Gwendoline took control and raised her hand to quiet everyone down.

“Now, before I watch Justin beat Theodore in Wizards Chess for the millionth time, there’s something we need to get out of the way. One of the girls is worried that we don’t actually like her and are just playing a joke. I want each of the boys to disprove that entirely illogical claim. We’ll just go around the room, starting with Justin.” 

“The Convocation is the family I never had. I saw my parents for thirty minutes a day if I was lucky, and empty mansions can get a bit lonely. Before coming to Hogwarts I had never had a real friend that wasn’t fictional. To whomever is doubting my authenticity,” Justin raised an eyebrow as he pretended he didn’t know it was Hermione, “I would ask whether it makes sense for someone like me to throw away the first real friends I’ve ever had. It would hurt me just as much as it would hurt them.”

“Brock.”

“You all know how I feel about you. I’ve told you things that I’ve never told anyone else, like the stuff about my sister. If I weren’t invested in our relationships then I would have no reason to make myself that vulnerable. Plus, we’re stronger together. Nobody is going to fear the Convocation if we’re not a united front.”

“Theodore.”

“I watch a lot of history documentaries,” he ignored Amos’s snort and continued. “And something that history has shown time and again is that a house divided cannot stand. I don’t plan on doing anything to split us up.”

“Amos.”

“We’re all 11 here, right?” Everyone nodded. “Well then, I think I speak for everyone when I say that I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my 11 years of life than you lot. Except Theodore maybe, but we do literally share the same face. I get made fun of a lot outside of here, and it would be pretty stupid of me to throw away this support.” He winked. “And I’m pretty, but I’m not stupid.”

“Garrick.” 

“I think they’ve all said what needs to be said here, but I guess I’ll add something small. I give you all my word that I will not turn my back on you and that I have been truthful in everything I’ve done and said.”

Hermione lost a few tears that everyone pretended not to notice, and they sat in silence for a solid minute while they all took that in. 

“Well that got serious.” Martine broke the silence. “Anyone up for something a bit more lighthearted?”

The next few hours were spent playing games, reading up on different advanced theories, and practicing spells. When Martine and Brock started a game of exploding snap at 6, though, Daniel came marching in.

“Convocation! It is 6 am on a Saturday. For the love of Merlin, keep it down.” 

The rest of Saturday was spent in a relaxing manner and Hermione was starting to believe that they weren’t secretly plotting against her or anything of that nature. Of course, she was also starting to feel a bit sick. 

They all went to bed earlier than usual due to their early start, and while Hermione wasn’t woken up by a nightmare she did end up tossing and turning from her increasingly sick feeling. Sunday breakfast was a disaster as Hermione was hardly able to eat anything, and by lunch she was sweaty, pale, and very clearly ill. 

“Hermione, are you okay?”

Suzanne was the first one to say anything, and when Hermione shook her head in response she knew she made the right call. “Come on then, let’s go see Madam Pomfrey.”

They all walked with Hermione to the door of the Hospital Wing, where Hermione turned to them and said “I’d rather be alone for this if you don’t mind.” It was a lie of course. 

Hermione very much wanted friends to be with her, but she knew that her current sickness was likely due to the impending full moon and she definitely didn’t want them to know that.

So they all left and Hermione walked into the Hospital Wing alone.

“Hermione, dear, is everything alright?” Poppy was relieved to see Hermione walking on her own and not bleeding, but still recognized that Hermione wasn’t looking very good.

“This week’s moon sick is hitting me a bit early. Do you have anything to help with that?” Hermione walked over and perched herself on the edge of a cot. 

Poppy bustled to grab a bottle of something and came back carrying it. “This should help to ease some of the symptoms, but it will just keep getting worse overall.” She unscrewed the bottle and poured Hermione a small dose into the lid. “Take a dose every four to six hours and it should keep most of the negative effects away, or at least take the edge off.”

Hermione took the medicine and moaned appreciatively when it immediately eased some of her pain and nausea. “Thank you Poppy.”

“Of course dear. Thank you for coming to me this time.”

Hermione took the bottle with her and returned to the nest. 

“What did she say?” “Are you okay?” “Are you sick?” Rapid fire questions hit her as soon as she walked in. 

“I’m definitely sick. She gave me this,” Hermione waved the bottle, “to help a little bit but said it’s likely going to get worse before it gets better. I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

Sunday and Sunday night had Hermione mostly tossing and turning in her bed as her symptoms steadily got worse, and when she rushed to the waste bin to puke during Potions on Monday she knew she had reached the point of going back to Poppy.

Severus obviously knew what was going on and rushed over to her as soon as she started getting sick, calling out a sharp “Keep working” to the rest of the class.

“I want you to go see Poppy, okay? There’s no shame in taking a few days off.” Severus spoke quietly enough so nobody could hear him, but he also avoided mentioning the moon just in case.

Hermione nodded and climbed shakily to her feet. “This is worse than last time. I don’t think I’ll able to make Wednesday night for our lesson.”

“Like I said before, that’s totally fine. We’ll reschedule for Thursday night and if you’re still feeling bad we can do Friday.” 

Hermione suddenly remembered why Thursday was important and hesitated. 

“Is that not okay?” Severus noticed her hesitation and questioned.

Every year Hermione had spent that one day in sadness, and after her experience when she was 10 she decided that it was best to keep it to herself. Nobody needed to know when her birthday was. “No. That works. I’m sure Thursday will be fine.” She wasn’t going to change her policy just yet. 

Severus looked unconvinced but nodded anyway and turned back to the class. “Will someone please escort Hermione to the Hospital Wing?” 

Rolling his eyes when every member of the Convocation stood up, Severus decided that it would just be easier if he picked one. “You may all be able to walk out of Herbology, but I assure you I am not about to let that happen in my classroom. Ms. Oleph, your potion appears to be satisfactorily complete, please escort Hermione.”

Martine nodded and said “Right away, sir” as the others sat down with pouts. 

Martine and Hermione walked in silence to the Hospital Wing, but Martine broke the silence when Hermione was about to walk through the doors. “For what it’s worth, we all care about you. I hope you feel better.”

Hermione smiled through her pain, but before the door was shut Martine called out again. “Wait, I almost forgot! If you have to stay here for a while can we come visit?”

Looking over her shoulder at Poppy, who was near the door and had heard the question, Hermione pleaded with her eyes for her to answer instead. Poppy took pity on her and motioned for her to open the door all the way. 

Now looking directly at Martine, Poppy answered. “She may be here for a couple of days while this runs its course, so you may visit inside of normal visiting hours. I’ll have no night time escapades in my Hospital Wing, is that clear?”

Gulping, Martine nodded and said “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now run along back to class, I have a patient to tend to.”


	20. Ghosts of Birthdays Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full moon and bad dreams. 
> 
> Be aware of descriptions of child abuse via dream flashbacks (all in italics).

Severus was suspicious. Technically, Severus was always suspicious, but right now he was suspicious about something in particular rather than just the world at large. Why did Hermione act so strange when he rescheduled for Thursday? Surely it wasn’t because she thought she would still be sick. She had read every book there was to read on werewolf transformations, so she knew as well as he did that the post sickness never lasted as long as the pre sickness.

This warranted investigating, and what better place to start than the Headmaster?

“Ah, Severus, what can I do for you this fine morning?” Albus stated with a smile as Severus walked into his office just before lunch. 

“What is the significance of Thursday? This Thursday.”

Albus looked taken aback at Severus’s question. “Well, I could site about a hundred historical events that occurred on September 19th, but something tells me you’re looking for a bit more… specificity. Why don’t you give me the context of your query?”

Sighing, Severus ran his hand through his long hair. He had given up any pretense of not caring for Hermione, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with expressing his level of care all the time. “Hermione was acting…” he trailed off for a moment, searching for an appropriate word, “strange… about that day. I rescheduled our lesson to Thursday due to the full moon this week and she seemed odd about it.”

“Hmm.” Albus hummed in thought for a few seconds before taking out his wand, waving it, and murmuring something under his breath. Severus watched as a file flew into Albus’s hands from a stack across the room and waited patiently as Albus flipped through it. 

“Aha!” Albus pointed at something on one of the pages and said “It would appear that Thursday, September 19th is Hermione’s 12th birthday.” He looked at Severus. “Did she seem reluctant to have your lesson that night? Maybe she wants to spend her birthday with her friends and wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

Severus shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “No, it wasn’t that. I offered to move it to Friday, but she said Thursday was fine. It was odd. When I first brought up rescheduling to Thursday she seemed hesitant, but after a few seconds it was almost like she was… relieved.”

Albus and Severus shared a look and Albus jumped in. “But why would Hermione be relieved to be spending her birthday shut in the dungeon with you?” Severus arched an eyebrow and Albus added “Not that there’s anything wrong with you, dear boy. You’re not exactly a Ravenclaw first year though.”

Inclining his head in agreement, Severus thought for a beat. “If she’s anything like me, I doubt her birthdays up until now have been very good. She probably thinks it’s easier to pretend she doesn’t have one.”

“So what should we do? Surprise party?”

“No.” Severus shook his head immediately. “That could backfire very badly. And besides, if she doesn’t want to tell her classmates then we have to respect that, no matter how misguided her reasoning. No, what we need is something small to show her that we care for her. That the adults in her life are not her mother.”

“And do you, Severus?” Albus looked at Severus with twinkling eyes. “Do you care for the girl?”

Against his inner nature, Severus nodded. 

\---

After the last class on Monday afternoon the entire Convocation barged into the Hospital Wing. They were talking loudly and excitedly and several of them were out of breath from how quickly they had walked to get there. Madam Pomfrey bustled over to them and gave them a sharp look. 

“Now I know I said you all could visit, but if you keep this noise up I’ll have you out of here faster than you can say ‘sorry.’ Understood?”

They nodded quickly, not wanting to get on her bad side. 

Poppy’s gaze softened as she looked over the nine 11 year olds standing in front of her and she motioned for them to follow her. “She’s back here. She’s been fighting off a bug for a while, but I think her recent emotional stress lowered her immunity enough for it to really take hold.” Poppy lied through her teeth as she told them her and Hermione’s agreed upon cover story. 

“It’s a nasty little thing that is probably going to keep flaring up from time to time, but I’ve at least made it so it’s not contagious. So you don’t need to worry about being close to her.” They reached a curtained off area and she held up a hand to stop them from rushing in. “That being said, she is going to be rather tired and weak for a few more days, so I need you all to be gentle and respect her limits. If she starts falling asleep or looking ill you’re going to have to leave.”

Looking each of them in the eye to ensure that they got the message, Poppy pulled aside the curtain to allow them entry. After all ten members of the Convocation were safely inside the curtained off room, Poppy pulled the curtain shut to give them some privacy. She was bending her own rule on the number of visitors at once, but when it came to Hermione she already accepted that she had a bit of a soft spot. 

Hermione and the Convocation sat up for a couple of hours talking about anything and everything, including the classes that Hermione had missed. 

Apparently the four Gryffindors who had tormented Hermione the week before were being thoroughly ostracized by their own House, and one Ginny Weasley had even asked the Convocation about whether Hermione was okay. Hermione was awed that people were turning against the bullies and actually seemed to care about her. She still wasn’t quite used to it, but it gave her hope that maybe she wasn’t going to have to go back to how her life was before. 

The Convocation gave her the work she missed and were making their promises to come back after dinner when Hermione felt a strong wave of nausea hit her. Garrick quickly grabbed the waste bin and held it for her while she puked, and after she was done she fell back against her pillow in exhaustion. 

“I’m sorry guys, but I think I’m all socialized out for the day.” Hermione’s voice was, surprising herself, genuinely apologetic. She was enjoying herself with them, but she also felt terrible and knew she needed to take care of herself. 

Brock was pouting and about to open his mouth in protest when Gwendoline smacked him on the back of the head and said “Of course Hermione, we understand. Focus on getting better, okay? We’ll swing by after breakfast tomorrow.”

Nodding gratefully, Hermione’s eyes started drifting shut against her wishes as the Convocation said their goodbyes and made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. She opened her eyes back up in surprise when a warm blanket settled over her body. Luna was smiling dreamily at her from the side of her bed. “You’ll need this soon.”

Not really comprehending what Luna said, Hermione merely allowed her eyes to drift back shut as Luna turned to follow the rest of the Convocation out. 15 minutes later when she started shivering and tugged the blanket tighter around herself she thought a brief word of thanks to Luna, her sleepy and feverish brain not even questioning how Luna would know such a thing. 

\---

The Convocation stuck to their word and swung by the Hospital Wing after breakfast the next morning. Hermione had darker circles around her eyes and looked a bit pale, but Madam Pomfrey assured them that the worst would pass today and Hermione might be able to go back to the Common Room as early as tomorrow. They said their goodbyes and promised to be back as soon as they could. 

Hermione managed to work a bit on a Transfiguration essay for Minerva during the morning classes, and when Poppy came in with a tray of food proclaiming it to be “Lunch time!” she also managed to keep down a bit of food. It was while she was slowly eating that she got a surprise visitor. 

“Hey Hermione.” Daniel walked through the curtain and smiled at Hermione.

“Daniel the prefect. I wasn’t expecting you.” Hermione was surprised, but not in an unpleasant way. 

“Yeah, well, I caught the Convocation trying to skip lunch so they could come down here and forced them to go to the Great Hall instead. It didn’t seem right to let the intent of their mission go unfulfilled though.”

Hermione smiled at the mention of her friends trying to skip lunch. Knowing how much they valued food, especially Brock, it warmed her heart that they would be willing to skip it for her. 

“Also, why do you lot insist on referring to me as ‘Daniel the prefect’ or ‘Prefect Daniel’? I don’t think any of you have yet to refer to me as anything else. I’m the only Daniel in Ravenclaw this year, you can just call me Daniel.” He seemed more confused than angry, though Hermione’s short laugh did tip him a bit in the frustrated direction.

“I honestly don’t know. I mean, if it really bothers you I can get them to stop, but I think it’s kind of fun. Think of it as a term of endearment, Prefect Daniel.” 

He huffed but didn’t ask her to stop, and they lapsed into a pleasant conversation. As lunch came to an end Daniel had to get to class, but before he rose to leave he looked at Hermione seriously. “When I got my prefect letter over the summer I was ecstatic. I started running over a million scenarios about my new First Years in my head and wondering what they would be like. The Convocation has exceeded literally everything I had imagined or hoped for, and it’s not hard to see who the heart of the group is.” 

Daniel stood up and Hermione looked at him in confusion and asked “Heart of the group?”

He laughed as he walked out of the curtain. “You, Hermione. You.”

\---

The Convocation spent some time with Hermione after class, but as dinner rolled around they once again departed with a promise to be back the next day. Hermione watched as the shadows across the room got longer and the room got darker and she sighed deeply. It was time. 

Poppy knew that Hermione had to leave before the school got out of dinner so nobody saw her in the halls, so she came over and helped Hermione climb to her feet. “Are you alright to get there on your own, dear?”

“Yes, thank you. I think I can manage.”

“Okay. Take your time tomorrow coming back, but make sure you leave during a class so nobody sees you.” Poppy brushed invisible dust from Hermione’s jumper before stepping back.

Hermione smiled at her concern and said “I will.”

Nobody saw her on her way to the Room of Requirement, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because nobody would ask questions or figure out her secret, but it was a curse because the walk through the deserted halls felt a lot like a gallows walk. 

She forced herself to take deep breaths and make her feet move, and before she knew it she was passing by the wall for the third time and then stepping through the newly formed door. Hermione looked around the room and saw that it was exactly as she left it-- complete with the nest and the record player. 

Walking over and setting a record to play, Hermione settled herself in the nest to wait. Glancing at the time, she noticed that she had forty minutes to kill and regretted not bringing a book. Almost immediately a bookshelf formed next to the stack of records and Hermione grinned at the room surrounding her. “Thanks Hogwarts.” 

She grabbed the latest copy of “Transfiguration Today” and started flipping through it casually. After twenty minutes her joints started aching, and after thirty minutes the pain had spread throughout her body. At the thirty five minute mark she replaced the journal and removed her clothing to prepare for the transformation. 

At thirty nine minutes she dropped to her knees and let out a grunt of pain, and at forty minutes she let out a single shout as her skeleton reshaped into that of her lupine form. Panting and on all fours, Hermione took a few minutes to adjust before padding over to her nest and sinking down into it. She was relieved to feel that her level of pain was less than the two times previous.

Hermione drifted in and out of sleep during the night, and finally she woke up in human form. Checking the time, Hermione saw that breakfast was just ending and first period was about to start. Putting on her clothes and taking off the record, Hermione was ready to go a few minutes into first period. 

Walking through the halls, Hermione felt a lot less like she was marching to her death this time. When she walked into the Hospital Wing she was a bit tired from her walk, seemingly not fully recovered from the toll transforming took on her body, and Poppy ushered her into a bed to sleep and recoup. 

\--

“Hermione!” 

Brock obnoxiously yelled as the Convocation walked into Hermione’s curtained room after classes that afternoon. Poppy venomously hissed “Mr. Cull!” from her spot nearby and Brock winced and yell-whispered “Sorry!” back. 

Everyone filed in and noticed that Hermione was sitting cross legged on her bed, fully dressed, and looking better. “You look a lot better. How do you feel?” Suzanne was the first to ask.

Hermione smiled softly and said “Loads better, thanks. Madam Pomfrey said that I could leave with all of you when you got here.”

“Really!? Then what are we waiting for?” Brock once again nearly yelled as he scooped up Hermione’s bag from the floor. An exasperated noise was heard from just outside the curtain and Poppy yanked it open fully and glared at Brock. “Mr. Cull, get out of my Hospital Wing.”

“But-” Brock looked at Hermione and back at Poppy, who did not lower her glare. “Out, Mr. Cull. I told you that if you could not control your volume you would be asked to leave. I have patients trying to sleep right now.”

He turned his pout full force at Poppy and glanced back at Hermione one last time as he dragged his feet toward the exit. Poppy rolled her eyes at his theatrics but took pity on him and said “She’ll be out in a few minutes, Mr. Cull.” Brock’s eyes lit up at that and he practically bounced to the exit.

Poppy gave them all the standard “take it easy” speech before sending Hermione out with a clean bill of health. As soon as they were in the hallway everyone started talking excitedly at once and Hermione allowed the sound to wash over her. It felt nice-- having people talk to her without being forced to, having people care about her. But in the back of her mind was the ever present thought of what they would do if they knew what she did every full moon. Would her friends be this happy to be around her right now if they knew she had spent the entire night on four legs?

“Hermione.”

She wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t particularly want to dwell on it right now. That was a problem for future Hermione. Present Hermione wanted to enjoy some time with her people. 

“Hermione!”

Hermione snapped her eyes up when she realized Martine was trying to get her attention. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked what you wanted to do with your newfound freedom.”

What else could Hermione do at a time like this? She smiled. “Let’s go to the library.”

\---

Hermione spent that night in the nest alternating between talking to the Convocation about various things and reading and taking notes in preparation for her lesson with Severus the following night. They were continuing potions ingredients, so she spent a while brushing up on those. The majority of her time that night was spent on reading about the spellwork portion of Severus’s lesson though-- the Impediment Jinx. 

Based on the previous week’s lesson she knew that Severus was going to show her ways to think of it that weren’t in her books, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still going to read everything she could. She learned the incantation and the wand movement, some of the famous instances in which it was used, and the creatures that were particularly resistant to it. All in all she thought it was a fairly productive night, and it kept her mind off of her looming birthday. 

Until she crawled into bed that night, anyway. While not quite as suddenly awful as her dream the previous week, Hermione’s sleeping mind did run all of her birthday memories through her head during the course of the night. Which was awful enough in its own right. 

_The first birthday Hermione remembers clearly is her fifth. Her mom woke her up in the morning and let her have a cupcake for breakfast and gave her a kiss before she got on the bus. At school everyone was extra nice to her and she had a great day-- she was even allowed to pick the game for recess. But when she got home at the end of the school day and walked inside her good day immediately came to a crashing halt. Because Jean Granger was sitting on a kitchen stool with a nearly empty bottle of vodka in her hand and an angry look on her face._

_“Ah, here she is. Little Hermione. The love of my life.” Jean slurred a little, but when she rose to her feet she was remarkably steady. Hermione held her backpack straps in fear and backed up until she bumped into the front door._

_Jean walked over to her and took another swig of the bottle, finishing it off. “Come home from the school that I paid for, in the clothes that I paid for, wearing the backpack that I goddamn paid for.”_

_Jean was hovering over Hermione now, who was looking anywhere but at the woman above her. “Look at me when I talk to you, you little brat. Do you know how much I had to give up for you? How much money I spend on you?”_

_Hermione still couldn’t bring herself to look at the woman above her, not wanting to face the reality that this woman was the same one who let her have a cupcake and kissed her that very morning. Hermione’s lack of eye contact made Jean angrier and she shouted “I said look at me!” before smashing her empty bottle against the door near Hermione’s head._

_Sinking to the ground in fear, Hermione tucked herself into a ball and started crying, waiting for it to be over. Above her, Jean Granger was taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. Looking at the pathetic creature below her, she merely kicked Hermione once and walked away. “Do your homework.”_

_Hermione’s sixth birthday passed by in much the same way. In the morning her mother was normal and loving, her classmates at school wished her happy birthday and had cake, and when she got home she was met with an irate Jean Granger. The only real difference for her sixth birthday was that the empty bottle was thrown from a distance, causing a few shards of glass to cut her._

_By Hermione’s seventh birthday her classmates had started to dislike her, so she came home in an already sour mood. But she still couldn’t help but hope that her mom would be nice to her this year. Jean had slapped Hermione the night before in one of her tirades, and usually the day after an incident meant nice, apologetic, loving mom. Hermione’s hopes were dashed as soon as she walked through the door and saw Jean in a dress and heels, dressed like she was going out. Jean marched over to her as soon as she was through the door and dragged her by her wrist to her bedroom. Throwing her on the bed, Jean hovered over her and held her gaze._

_“I’m going out tonight, and you’re going to stay in this room. Understand?” Hermione’s lip quivered but she didn’t respond._

_“I said,” Jean leaned closer, “do you understand?”_

_“Yes” came Hermione’s quiet reply._

_“Good.” Jean walked across the room and pulled a key from her bra, inserting it into the door. “I’m not letting you ruin my fun. You’ve already ruined enough.” With that she pulled the door shut and locked Hermione inside of her room. For the next 48 hours._

_When Jean finally came home after a weekend of doing who knows what, she walked in to find a dehydrated and hungry Hermione laying in her own waste. She spent the next week apologizing profusely and promising to never hurt Hermione again. Eight days later she pushed Hermione into a wall hard enough to give her a concussion._

_By the time Hermione reached her eighth birthday she no longer held any hope for having a good one. Which was good, because it turned out just as bad if not worse than her ones previous. It was a Saturday, so at least she didn’t have to go to school and deal with her classmates (who had long since given up any pretense of liking the weird girl who read books and flinched and acted skittish whenever anyone got too close to her). She spent the day hiding in her room while her mom talked about how excited she was to go out with her friends that night. Hermione snuck out of her room a few times to grab food, water, and a bin she could use as a toilet if she had to. She was terrified of a repeat of her last birthday weekend._

_Around dinner time she heard Jean answer the phone but she didn’t listen closely, figuring it was just a friend telling her she was on the way or something. Hermione should have listened though, because she was totally unprepared for what happened next._

_“Hermione!” Jean screamed at the top of her lungs._

_Hermione scrambled up her bed until she was against the wall as she waited for her mother’s thundering footsteps and screams to reach her door. Jean barged into the room, throwing open the door so hard that the knob left a hole in the wall. The first thing Hermione noticed was that Jean wasn’t in her heels and that her makeup wasn’t done, which confused Hermione. Wasn’t she going out?_

_“That was Tina on the phone.” Jean seethed. “You remember Tina, right?” Hermione nodded, scared by Jean’s tone._

_“Well, Tina was supposed to be picking me up tonight, but that was her calling to say that she was sorry I couldn’t make it. Do you know why Tina assumed I couldn’t make it?” Hermione shook her head. She didn’t know, and she had a feeling that she really didn’t want to know._

_“Tina remembered that my precious daughter’s birthday was today” Jean’s tone was mocking “and assumed I had forgotten to cancel. Since obviously I would want to spend my daughter’s birthday with her.”_

_Hermione gulped. She was right-- she didn’t want to know._

_Suddenly Jean jumped onto the bed and grabbed Hermione by the hair, dragging her off the bed and throwing her on the floor. That night was the worst Jean ever beat Hermione. By the time Jean went back to her room and passed out in exhaustion, Hermione had bruised ribs, a busted lip, and black and blue bruises over most of her body._

_She crawled into bed, wincing as she did, and fell into an uneasy sleep. Her last thought was “Happy birthday to me.”_

_Hermione’s ninth, tenth, and eleventh birthdays were better in that her mother didn’t hit her, but worse in that she was more lonely than she had ever been. On her ninth birthday she took a bus to the library and to the store, getting herself a few books and stealing a cupcake as a gift to herself. Her tenth birthday had her getting made fun of on the playground and gaining a few more bruises form bullies, and at home getting nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement from her mother. She went to her teacher a few weeks before her eleventh birthday begging her not to make an announcement or put it on the class calendar, and the teacher agreed. So her eleventh birthday came and went without a single soul acknowledging that it was indeed her birthday. It was her best birthday ever._

When Hermione woke on Thursday morning as an official 12 year old, she did so with a renewed dedication that nobody would find out the significance of the day.


	21. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's 12th birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to let this go nearly a month without updating-- I'll try not to let it happen again.

Hermione managed to go through all of Thursday with no mention of her birthday. She ate with the Convocation and passed the time in idle conversation, and threw herself fully into her classes, which were History of Magic, Astronomy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

When the time came for her to go to Severus’s office that evening she was torn between being happy with her success at keeping the significance of the day to herself and sadness at nobody celebrating. Poppy had said something to her once about emotional intelligence, and it was with that in mind that Hermione tried to analyze her emotions.

The happiness she felt was easy to understand. Historically speaking, birthdays where others knew it was her birthday were terrible, and the year where nobody knew was the best. The sadness she felt was a bit harder to pin down. Why would she want people to know it was her birthday? By the time she reached Severus’s office she had a few theories. 

The first was that after the difficulties she had faced over the course of the past year she wanted recognition of that. She wanted someone to say to her: “You have found out you’re a witch, been turned into a werewolf, and been disowned by your mother. And yet, despite all of that, you made it to 12. Good job.” Knowing that she wasn’t immune to desiring praise and recognition, Hermione thought this one was plausible. 

The second theory was that she wanted to celebrate her birthday with family-- the way a family was supposed to celebrate. Her mother never gave her presents or love on her birthday, and if Hermione was being honest with herself, she never stopped craving that parental care. Thinking about this desire, Hermione was a bit surprised to find her mind straying to her professors-- namely Albus, Minerva, and Severus-- instead of her actual parent. Albus was kind of like the knowledgeable and kind grandpa she never had, and she found herself wondering what sort of wisdom he would impart to her on her birthday. Minerva was a bit harder to pin down. Initially Hermione wondered if she was viewing her as a substitute mother figure, but quickly dismissed that thought upon further reflection. After her experiences with her own mother, Hermione wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to trust another woman in that role. She did trust Minerva though, and she did care about her and desire her approval, so she settled on a sort of aunt role. That left her with Severus. Stoic, smart, and mysterious Severus. After her bumpy start with the man, Hermione had come to value his opinion above all others. Every time he did something as simple as nod in her direction or say “Good job,” she felt warm all over. She refused to think too much further on exactly what role that left him in, but she did take a wistful second to imagine what a birthday with him would be like. 

The third theory as to why she was a bit sad nobody knew it was her birthday was similar to the second-- differing only in that it focused on peer relationships. For most of her birthdays that she remembered, Hermione’s peers has ridiculed and taunted her. This year, though, for the first time in her young life, Hermione had peers that seemed to genuinely care for her. Despite the historical trends warning her against it, Hermione wanted cake and presents and camaraderie. An image flashed into her mind of her in the Common Room surrounded by the Convocation and Ravenclaw House-- all of them eating cake and having a good time. It was a good image, and Hermione almost allowed herself to get lost in it.

But the constant _what-ifs_ were an endless track running in the back of her mind. What if Severus and her other professors didn’t like her once they really saw inside her mind? They had only seen half of the issues she kept locked inside. What if her friends decided she wasn’t worthy of them if they found out she was a werewolf? They said they liked her and had been amazing so far, but Hermione thought of the woman in St. Mungo’s and reminded herself how quickly things could change. 

And so, when she knocked on Severus’s door, Hermione had almost convinced herself that she didn’t regret keeping her birthday a secret. Almost. 

“Enter.”

Hermione walked in and immediately stopped short, allowing the door to feebly swing shut behind her. Severus stood next to his desk holding a blue box with a silver bow on it. Heart thumping wildly, Hermione stood frozen-- half of her wanting to flee the room and the other half wanting to launch herself into his arms. Severus tensed, sensing her panic, and set his present on his desk so he could splay his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. Of course, this move drew Hermione’s gaze to the several other presents sitting on his desk. 

At the sudden realization that she had monumentally failed to conceal her birthday, Hermione shook her head and took a step back. Even as she logically knew that this was a good thing, that Severus approving of her and showing care was something she desired on a deep level, to be confronted by it this suddenly was a bit too much for her. She took another step back and gasped when her back hit the door.

And then, be it because of her being on edge all day, or because of the sudden birthday surprise, Hermione slipped into the past. All of a sudden she was five years old and her mother was stalking toward her from across the room. Present day Hermione screwed her eyes shut and tried to fight it off, but the memories came on unbidden. Hermione smelled the alcohol on Jean’s breath and felt the liquid splash across her as the bottle smashed. Sinking to the floor in fear of the woman standing over her, Hermione chanted inside of her mind _Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me._

Severus cursed himself the second Hermione took a step back. He had thought turning down the insistence of the other professors that they throw a surprise party was enough, but apparently even the presence of presents was too much shock for Hermione. When she sank to the floor and started whispering to herself “Please don’t hurt me,” he realized just how serious his error was. 

“Hermione.” He started off by speaking slowly and quietly and moving his way across the room. 

“Hermione. You’re 12 years old and at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m Severus Snape, Potions Master and… friend.” He stopped a few feet away and kneeled down. 

Severus was tempted to start apologizing profusely for his misstep, but he knew that she needed someone calm and rational to reorient her to the present. Apologies could come later.

“We’re alone in my office, and I promise you that I am not going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

Hermione’s breathing had calmed down a bit and she reached out an arm toward Severus unconsciously. Wondering how far back Hermione had to have slipped for her to be seeking physical comfort, Severus nevertheless heeded her nonverbal request and slid across the remaining meter and pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re safe, Hermione. Please, just come back to me. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry.” Hermione spoke so quietly that Severus almost didn’t hear it. 

“I am the one who should be apologizing. I knew there must have been a reason that you didn’t want anyone knowing what today was, and instead of respecting that, I foolishly agreed to deliver you gifts from the professors.”

Hermione’s heart leapt and she buried her face in Severus’s neck. “I’m glad you wanted to do something nice for me, I just…” she trailed off, unable to put her emotions into words.

“Have a traumatic past that I should have been more considerate of?” Severus finished for her. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

His tone was lighthearted, for him anyway, and it broke the ice on their tense moment. Hermione sat up and looked embarrassed at her position, moving quickly to stand up. “I’m s--” she stopped mid-apology when Severus shot her a glare.

“Right. Don’t apologize.”

Severus clambered to his feet and stood regarding Hermione for a long moment. “If you’d like, and only if you’d like, I have several birthday gifts with your name on them. I can only imagine what sort of ghosts your past birthdays have left behind, but I think that, and again, this is only if you want, but I think that you can start making a few good birthday memories. And maybe, one day, you’ll look back on your birthdays and instead of being overcome by the bad,” he gestured to the door, “you’ll fondly remember the good,” he gestured to his desk. 

Somewhere in his little speech Hermione remembered her thoughts just before she entered his office. She wanted to be recognized, she wanted the approval of the adults in her life, and by god did she want actual birthday presents. So she decided to say as much.

“I-- I’ve never had a good birthday. Some were better than others, but none of them have been _good_. I’ve never gotten a birthday present or any positive recognition of growing a year older… but I want to. I’ve always wanted to, even when I tried to stop myself from wanting because I knew it would only bring more pain. You couldn’t have possibly known what my reaction was going to be. You couldn’t have known that my mother greeted me with shouts and smashed bottles and bruises and kicks more than once when I got home from school on my birthday.” Hermione took a fortifying breath and reminded herself not to go too far in that direction. “What I’m trying to say is that I appreciate what you did. And that yes, if you’ll bear with me and be patient, I would love to open presents.”

Severus gave her a proud look that made her chest swell and they walked over to his desk together. Putting a hand under each of her arms, after nonverbally motioning for permission, Severus lifted Hermione up so she was sitting on the edge of his desk with the small pile of presents on her left. Feeling Hermione’s frail body and far too light weight, Severus felt his hatred of her upbringing intensify. A woman who could make a child not only so underweight but also so traumatized that the sight of a birthday present was enough to send her into a near panic attack was not a woman that deserved to live. He made a mental note to talk to Albus and Minerva and find out exactly what happened to Jean Granger.

But for now he had to focus on Hermione’s present and not her past, and it was with that thought in mind that he handed her the present on top-- his own. “I was going to save mine for last since it ties into our lesson for the evening, but I decided that I would take the honor of being your first ever birthday present for myself. If you don’t mind.” He tacked on that last sentence unsurely, and was relieved when Hermione gave him a small smile and took the gift from his hands.

“I don’t mind.” And with that, Hermione took a deep breath and removed the top of the box, gasping when she saw the contents. Inside were four items-- three vials and a leather journal. The vials were what made Hermione gasp. Setting the box on her knees, she pulled out all three and gingerly held them in her hands. “Are these what I think they are?” 

Severus slipped into professor mode and said “Why don’t you tell me what you think they are and I’ll tell you if you’re correct.”

Hermione held up the first vial, which was full of a liquid silver substance that practically glowed it was so bright and said “Phoenix tears.” She then held up the second, this one containing a liquid so bright green that it reminded Hermione of the vat of toxic chemicals in a cartoon she saw once. “Basilisk venom.” Finally, hand slightly shaking as she did so, Hermione held up the third vial. This vial was full of a substance darker than black that seemed to pulse in time with her own heartbeat. “I don’t see how it can be, but there’s really no other option…” 

Severus decided to cut in, since Hermione seemed unable to finish her sentence. “Cloak of a lethifold, yes. Extraordinarily difficult to procure, used in only two potions known to man-- the brewing of one of which is as punishable by the Ministry as using an Unforgivable Curse.”

Gingerly, Hermione placed them back into the box where they came from. “These are amazing, but they’re so expensive and hard to get.” The unspoken statement of _I’m not worth it_ hung in the air, and Severus shook his head in frustration. 

“Hermione, in all of the years I’ve been teaching I have never known a student with as natural a talent for potions as you. I would gladly spend every knut I own if it would ensure you didn’t give up on learning and exploring.”

“But, if it makes you feel any better, these items were already in my private stores and I didn’t actually spend any money to procure them.”

She nodded, feeling a bit better, and gave him a watery smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I thought a few rare ingredients would be an excellent way to start your own stores, though there is still more to your gift.” He gestured to the journal and she pulled it out and flipped through it. 

The first page said simply “Year One,” and as Hermione flipped through it further she saw that every right page was full of familiar cramped writing and every left side was blank. 

Seeing her confusion, Severus explained. “I believe in transparency in education, which is why I have filled this journal with every potion and spell I intend to cover with you this year. On the right you will find my own personal notes and observations, and on the left are blank pages for your own. There are blank pages in the back for projects of your own or any curriculum changes I deem fit to make.”

Amazed, Hermione flipped through the book and was awed by some of the things that Severus thought she was going to be able to handle as a First Year. “Also, since transparency goes both ways, I have an identical copy of this journal. I will be able to see your notes, and if you have any questions you may write them in the section on each page labelled “questions” and I will write a response. I have it charmed to let me know if you write a question, but otherwise I will still be looking at it every few days to check your progress.”

“I take your education and development seriously, and I expect you to do the same.”

Hermione was too touched for words. The fact that Severus was willing to devote so much time and energy to her was amazing, and she resolved to do everything she could to make him proud. She nodded in response and set the box to her right side, hoping he understood what she couldn’t put words to. When he handed her the next gift with a small smile, she thought that he did.

“This is from Poppy.”

Hermione tore off the wrapping paper and was met with another journal, this one a deep blue in color. Opening the cover, Hermione took out a note. 

_Hermione,_

_When Severus told me of your upcoming birthday I decided to get you something small and, hopefully, useful. Mental health is unfortunately something that isn’t talked about in magical circles, even in the medical field of study to which I belong. As a result, I have been doing a lot of study of my own into the muggle field of psychology and would like to present you with one of the things I think may be helpful to you._

_Many people with mental health struggles, particularly past trauma, often have difficulties in communicating and expressing their emotions. I know we have had a discussion about emotional intelligence, and I hope you have been attempting to practice that more frequently, but I think it would also be a good development for you to start journaling._

_Write anything and everything that comes to your mind-- emotions, dreams, thoughts, etc. The written word is often much easier to employ than the spoken one, and there are many muggles who have benefitted from this tactic. I asked Severus to place a ward on it so that nobody but you will be able to read it, so please don’t worry about your thoughts or secrets becoming public. Just put a drop of your blood on the cover to activate the ward._

_I advise you seek my or Severus’s help to extract the drop of blood for you so you can avoid temptation. Also, blood wards aren’t exactly looked kindly on by the ministry, so we would appreciate your discretion on the matter. They are widely regarded as the most secure of wards though, and we thought your peace of mind was worth a tad bit of rule bending._

_Take care, and happy birthday._

_Your favorite healer,  
Poppy_

Hermione finished reading and wiped a tear from her eye. Unsure if she was going to take Poppy’s advice and start journaling, the fact that Poppy had done all of that research and effort to help her touched her heart regardless. Looking at Severus and making a snap decision, Hermione asked “Will you set the ward for me?” She had been doing a lot better on the self-harming front, but purposefully taking her own blood was something she knew might be too much. 

Severus nodded and moved to retrieve something from his desk drawer. Coming back around with a small dagger in hand, he grabbed her hand in his and looked her in the eye. “Ready?” She nodded in response and he made a small incision on the base of her thumb and brought the journal up so that it absorbed the drops of blood. 

The journal grew warm to the touch as the ward took effect, and Severus muttered a quick healing spell to close up Hermione’s cut. “There you are. You are now the proud owner of your first blood warded journal.” He said it with a smile and in a tone of voice that told Hermione he had owned a few things with blood wards in his life. 

Next she was handed a box from Minerva that was wrapped in silver paper and had a blue bow on top. Removing the bow and paper, Hermione opened the box and was not surprised to see a book. She was a bit surprised to see the title of the book, however. Gingerly picking up _Wandlore for those who understand_ , Hermione practically felt the book vibrating in her hand. Opening the front cover, she withdrew a note from Minerva.

_I have been conducting research of my own after the event at Ollivander’s. I am not trying to understand your secrets or gain knowledge that is not meant for me-- I respect your wishes more than that. What I have been doing is trying to find resources for you to utilize, whether it be accounts of others with your unique gift or something else._

_I spoke to many people and called in a few favors, and eventually I tracked down the rumour of this book. Albus aided me in actually locating and procuring it, and I believe it has what I was looking for. Neither Albus nor myself can read what is contained in its pages, but I hope you will be able to gain the knowledge we cannot._

_Best wishes,  
Minerva_

Deciding to see what Minerva meant, Hermione flipped to a random page in the book and looked at the symbols contained on the page. The symbols did not change into English or anything quite so obvious, but they did seem to shimmer and thrum before her eyes and suddenly she just _knew_. She knew that this page told the story of a man named Akiki who lived in the second century CE. Flipping to another page, the same thing happened and suddenly she knew the first hand account of a wand with thestral tail hair as a core. The way it thought was fascinating, and she found herself getting pulled further into the account, her own wand thrumming happily in her pocket. 

Flipping to yet another page, Hermione was about to start absorbing it when Severus cleared his throat from where he stood beside her. “Oh!” Hermione looked up a bit sheepishly and said “Sorry, I’ll read more later.”

“So you can? Read it, I mean.” Severus may not have had a hand in procuring it, but he did get a quick run down from Minerva when she handed him the box and would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a bit curious.

“I’m not sure if read is the best word for what I’m doing… but yes, I can understand it.” 

“Fascinating.” But Severus left it at that and handed her the final gift, which was a small box tied to the top of a larger one, with a large envelope held between them. “These are from Albus, as you may have been able to tell by the absurd choice of wrapping.”

He was talking about the fact that both boxes were wrapped in paper covered in depictions of various candies. Hermione conceded that, yes, she would have been able to discern the giver of this gift even without a card.

Pulling the ribbon off, Hermione saw that the envelope had a note saying “Open last” on it, so she unwrapped the small box first. Inside was what appeared to be a simple muggle pen and a note written in Albus’s handwriting. 

_There are some advanced branches of magic, particularly arithmency, in which the control of a quill is important. It is for those future possibilities that I encourage you to maintain a basic proficiency in the use of the feathered instrument… but I will admit that they are more cumbersome than useful in nearly all other regards. So please enjoy this muggle pen enchanted with an unending supply of ink. The magical world could stand to learn a thing or two from the muggle world._

Slipping the pen into her pocket gratefully, Hermione moved on to unwrap the larger box. Inside there was what looked like a tackle box with a piece of paper taped on top. Grabbing the paper, Hermione pulled it off the box and read it. 

_Severus spoke to me about giving you a few select potions ingredients (my apologies if you haven’t opened them already), and I thought it would be prudent to give you a place to begin to store them. This unassuming muggle tackle box has an Undetectable Extension Charm on it (don’t tell the Ministry), and will certainly be spacious enough to serve you for years to come. Go ahead and stick your head in right now to scope it out, I promise you won’t be disappointed._

Taking Albus’s written advice, Hermione opened the box, lit her wand, and stuck her head down. With her head and wand arm inside, Hermione was once again in awe of the wonder of magic. Large enough for her to climb down inside, there were several full length Potions cupboards for storage and organization. “Woah.” Pulling her head out, Hermione gave Severus an awed look and moved to grab the envelope. 

Opening it, she pulled out a surprisingly thick stack of papers. 

_Hermione,_

_Knowledge is a powerful tool, and I am beyond glad to see you seek it so relentlessly and enthusiastically, and I encourage you to continue. Something I wish I had known sooner, however, is that as powerful as knowledge is-- friendship and family are just as powerful. Our upbringings were different in many ways, but similar in others, and I hope that by sharing some of my life with you I can help you to avoid some of the mistakes I made. These pages contain the framework of my life, including my gravest mistakes and greatest regrets._

_My life has not been easy, but I believe that you are more than capable of understanding and neither acquitting me of my wrongdoings or judging me more harshly than I deserve. Read these pages when you are alone and have time. I hope you can learn that which I was once too young and foolish to learn myself._

_-Albus_

Hermione slipped the rest of the pages back into the envelope and resolved to read them later, but her mind was already buzzing with curiosity at what mistakes the great Albus Dumbledore could have made in his life. 

After placing the smaller items in her bag, Hermione was left with the tackle box, which she set on Severus’s desk for the time being. Glancing at the clock, she was alarmed to see that the majority of the time Severus devoted to going over potion ingredients for their lessons had already passed. 

Seeing her look at the time, Severus said “Don’t worry about the time. We’ll make up for any missed ingredients next week, but between now and then I want you to make your own entries in the journal for phoenix tears, basilisk venom, and cloak of lethifold. Is that agreeable?”

She nodded and he continued. “Very good. The spells aren’t in order of lesson, so I will still notify you on Friday of the spell for the following week’s lesson. For now, let’s move on to the spellwork portion of today’s lesson.”

Relieved that her impromptu birthday celebration didn’t mean they couldn’t still do her lesson, Hermione walked over to where Severus stood in the center of the room. 

“As you well know, there are a great many fields of wand-channelled magic, but I’m a firm believer that everyone needs a basic understanding of combat magic. Not only because no matter how cautious you are you may find yourself in the position of engaging in combat, but also because it provides an excellent basis for other fields. Combat magic requires you to think on your feet and confront your fears, both of which are major benefits in other magics and in life. For these reasons, you’ll find that our lesson plan focuses on fighting, and that along the way I will teach you to properly duel. We will be alternating offensive and defensive spells, and today we are starting off with the Impediment Jinx. Give me the purpose, incantation, and wand movement for the Impediment Jinx.”

And just like that they were back in professor and student mode, and Hermione felt relieved as the weight of familiarity settled over her. “The Impediment Jinx slows down or temporarily stops most objects and creatures. The incantation is Impedimenta, and the wand movement is as follows.” Hermione held her wand out in front of her and flicked it sharply to the right in one quick movement.

“Very good. Something not many generic or introductory spellbooks talk about, however, is that the Impediment Jinx can stop a great many things or one single thing-- that is, widespread or focused-- depending on the intent of the spell. Which do you think is more difficult?”

Hermione thought for a second. “My initial thought would be that stopping a lot of things would be harder than stopping one thing, but I guess if the one thing you needed to stop was in a crowd that would be hard too.”

“That’s a much more thoughtful response than most others I’ve taught, and you’re absolutely correct. Each way of approaching the spell has its own difficulties, and which one you find more difficult is going to depend on your individual strengths. When I first learned this spell I had a great many untamed anger issues and a thirst to prove myself, and as such I had not yet learned the precision and control that was necessary for a powerful focused Impediment Jinx. I could manage to weakly slow them down, of course, but stopping them was another story.”

“For you I think it may be the opposite. Your work in your classes has been extraordinarily detailed and precise, and your connection to your wand will help to fuel the _intent_ of the spell—which is to stop single objects from amidst a crowd.”

Hermione agreed with his logic, but something still nagged at her. “And you don’t think I have the raw power to stop them all at once?”

“Oh you have the power, Hermione, make no mistake about that. The issue with this particular spell is the ability to fully open yourself to and embrace that power. It’s an emotional thing, and it requires being able to tap into that raw emotion and not let it incapacitate you. I was very angry, but I accepted my anger and let it rule me in all aspects of my life—not something I recommend, by the way—but it nonetheless allowed me to perform spells like the widespread Impediment Jinx without being suddenly overrun.”

“Let’s try something. Close your eyes.” Hermione obeyed immediately.

“Think about every emotion you felt this week. Think about how you felt on Monday, and Tuesday. Think about how you felt with the looming moon, about how you felt when your friends visited you in the Hospital Wing, how you felt when you made the decision to keep your birthday a secret. Fall into those emotions and allow yourself to feel them again.”

Severus’s voice was meditative and Hermione was soon doing what he suggested—falling into her emotions. “Now, I want you to allow the strongest emotion to come to the surface. The other ones are going to vie for your attention, but I need you to bring only the strongest to the front of your mind. The emotion you felt most frequently, the emotion that influenced all of your decisions this week.”

“Do you have it?” Hermione nodded. “Good. In one word, tell me what that emotion is.”

“Fear.”

Severus squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, once again angry at what this child had to go through in her young life. “Okay, fear. Your fear is sitting on the surface of your mind. If you were to fall into this fear, if you were to breathe it in and let it soak into your bones, would you be able to cast spells?”

Hermione gasped as she poked at the edge of the fear and immediately realized that no, there was absolutely no way she could perform spellwork while consumed by fear. She opened her eyes and met Severus’s. “No.” Her voice was small, but understanding.

“Exactly. Until your inner life is dominated by something other than fear, you will face that block every time you try to perform a spell that relies on sheer force of will. Of course, some spells require very specific emotions of their own-- like the Patronus Charm-- but the majority require your strongest possible emotion.”

“So what you’re saying is basically that until I’m less broken half of my spells won’t be any good.”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” Severus admonished her. “I’m saying that until your inner emotions are a bit more balanced you will not be reaching your full potential. I suspect that through sheer intent you will be able to perform the spell much better than most of your classmates regardless of emotional control, but I wouldn’t be doing my duty as your educator if I didn’t go over the inner workings of each spell and show you how to be the best you can be.”

Hermione still looked a little demoralized, so Severus sighed as he moved to retrieve a bucket from the side of the room. Coming back and standing in front of Hermione, he continued speaking. 

“It took me years to be able to gain control of my anger enough for me to cast a truly strong and focused Impediment Jinx. There are still countless spells that I have yet to master.” Hermione looked at him in shock and he nodded. “Education is something that never ends, Hermione, even after you leave these castle walls. There are concepts that you could spend your entire life on and never fully understand, and there are spells that some people are simply incapable of mastering, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Are you familiar with Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters?” Severus regretted broaching the subject as soon as he did, but decided to ride it out anyway when Hermione nodded. “So you know that they were a group of the most powerful magic wielders in modern history?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you are. Well, something you may not have known is that not a single one of them could cast a Patronus Charm.”

Hermione looked up at him in shock. “But-- but they mastered magics most of the magical world wouldn’t even dare go near!”

“True, but none of them were able to surmount the darkness of their own minds to be able to cast a true Patronus Charm. Everyone has their strengths and their weaknesses Hermione, and I don’t want you wasting any more time tonight fretting over weaknesses you can’t yet control. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. I have twenty balls in this bucket,” he shook the bucket toward Hermione, “and I’m going to run you through a series of drills using them. Make sure you’re planted firmly-- remember last week-- and also that your wand movement is swift. I want you to imagine that the faster you move your wand, the slower the objects will travel.”

Hermione planted her feet and did a few practice wand movements, trying to slash her wand as quickly as she could. Severus made a few small corrections, but soon decided that physically she was ready. All that was left was mental.

“I’m going to start by lobbing balls at you one at a time, and you will attempt to freeze them in midair. For reasons we’ve already discussed, try to focus on the intent behind the spell, and see each small ball as a piece of a puzzle you need to fit into place. When you’re making a potion and meticulously measuring, cutting, and pouring, you’re in a very detailed frame of mind. Get there, and focus on each ball individually as it comes to you-- imagining what you want it to do. Ready?” He reached into the bucket and pulled out a single ball.

“Ready.” Hermione spoke confidently as her eyes narrowed in hyper focus and she kept her eye on the ball. Severus gently tossed it her way and she made the movement and nonverbally put her intent behind the spell. The ball slowed down so that it was only moving a centimeter or two per second, but Hermione still huffed in frustration. 

“Remember, Hermione, act like you’re brewing a potion. Focus intently on the ball and on making it do what you want it to, making it _stop_.” Severus tossed another and Hermione again performed the spell, this one slowing until you could barely see it’s movement. The next one she managed to stop completely. 

After that, Severus started throwing them in different directions and at different speeds. Initially a few of the faster ones still moved after casting, but after about five minutes of the exercise she was stopping them near perfect every time. Seeing this, Severus moved onto phase two. 

“Good. Now I’m going to send out two different colored balls, and you need to stop only the blue one each time. I’m going to send them using my wand, so you won’t be able to see which is which until they’re in the air. If you focus on finding and stopping the blue with as much fervor as you focus on everything else in academia, you will be just fine.”

With that he flicked his wand and sent out the first two balls, a blue one and a green one. Hermione’s eyes lasered on the blue immediately and she stopped it effortlessly. After a few more that were just as easy, she commented “I think this is actually easier for me. Trying to find one color makes it more natural to hyper focus on the ball.”

Severus ran her through that phase a few more times before moving on to the next. “I think you have this one, so now I’m going to mix it up. I’ll throw different numbers of balls, always with one or two blue ones you need to stop mixed in. If you focus hard enough and the intent is strong enough, you’ll be able to stop the blue without having to lock eyes on each individual ball. Here we go.” 

Hermione had no time to prepare as three balls, two blue, flew out of the bucket. She spotted a blue ball immediately and locked onto it, casting the spell and stopping it in its tracks. Unfortunately, the other blue ball hit the ground without even being slowed down.

“Remember, Hermione, focus your intent on stopping blue and it won’t matter whether you focus your vision on each individual blue ball. Take in the field of balls as one large unit, and let your magic sort them out for you. Take a deep breath and we’ll go again.”

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Hermione slipped into what Suzanne once called her “potions trance.” She was focused, diligent, and determined. She opened her eyes and reset her feet to a sturdy position. 

Severus send out four balls this time, but two of them were still blue. Hermione slashed across with purpose and managed to slow both blue balls to a crawl while the other balls fell. They went for several more rounds and was able to completely stop two or three blue balls at a time. 

“I’m satisfied with your progress on the focused Impediment Jinx for tonight, but we still need to attempt the widespread jinx. I’m going to send all 20 balls up, and you’re going to stop or slow as many as you can. Focus on the intent of stopping them all, and make it happen. Don’t try to fall into your emotions tonight, Hermione. That’s more likely to be a topic for next year or the year after.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. After the nudge she got from her fear earlier she was in no hurry to become lost in it. So she slipped into her potions trance and managed to slow about half of them the first time around. The second time she slowed them all down, but not by very much. Letting out a huff of frustration, Hermione realized that this was exactly what Severus had been talking about. She couldn’t hyper focus on so many individual objects, but she couldn’t let her raw emotion take over the spell either. 

She decided to strategize. There were three colors of balls-- red, blue, and green. Since focusing on blue whether she could see them all or not was enough for the blue to stop, maybe focusing on the three colors at the same time would be enough to slow all of the balls. After all, wasn’t focusing on three things easier than focusing on twenty?

The next time Severus launched all twenty balls, Hermione focused on the three colors and managed to totally freeze more than half of the balls and significantly slow the rest. For the next ten minutes they worked on mass freezing, and while Hermione never managed to fully freeze all twenty balls at once, she came much closer by the end of it. 

With a wave of his wand, Severus sent all of the balls back into the bucket. “You did quite well tonight, Hermione. Your homework is going to be practicing on a few larger objects in your own time. Be safe and use your judgement though-- I’m talking about things like pillows, not knives.”

Hermione laughed and nodded in agreement. “I’m sure the Convocation will be more than happy to send some pillows my way.”

“The Convocation?”

Hermione laughed again when she realized that Severus hadn’t heard their self appointed name. “Yeah, the Convocation. It’s the name for the Ravenclaw First Years. I think it’s really starting to catch on.”

“It’s certainly interesting. But in all seriousness, I’m glad you’ve found camaraderie with them, Hermione.”

“Me too.” 

Hermione left the classroom with her bag over her shoulder, tackle box in her hand, and a smile on her face. She felt a lot better than she had when she walked in, and as she walked back to the tower she considered telling the Convocation that today was her birthday. In the end she decided that she would wait until the weekend and see how she felt. The day had already been incredibly long and taxing.

After stashing her birthday gifts in her trunk and moving over to the nest, Hermione distracted herself by showing them what she learned about the Impediment Jinx and laughing good naturedly when they kept sending surprise pillows her way. 

As she sank to sleep that night it was with the thought that maybe birthdays didn’t have to be terrible.


	22. Flash Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to flash forward to around Christmas, so this chapter is sort of a filler. It's a little all over the place-- sorry in advance.

_I was born in Mould-on-the-Wall, England in 1881 to Kendra and Percival Dumbledore. I was the oldest of three. My younger brother is named Aberforth, and my sister was named Ariana._

_When she was young, before Hogwarts age, a group of muggle boys saw Ariana performing magic and did not like what they saw. They, in a hatred driven by fear of the unknown, attacked her in a vile and vicious way. Their attack left her mentally and emotionally scarred, and her magical abilities were left severely altered and unstable._

_Shortly after her attack, my father tracked down the muggle boys who did that to her and killed them. He did not try to hide his actions, and when the Ministry came for him he allowed them to believe that he was simply another muggle-hating lunatic. To tell the truth would have meant that the Ministry would have known what Ariana had become, and that would have earned her a one way trip to St. Mungo’s. Because after the attack she became unpredictable. Her magic would manifest itself in uncontrollable and destructive ways._

_It was not long after that incident that I started at Hogwarts. Some people praised my father’s actions and hoped to gain favor with me, who they assumed was as muggle-hating as them. Still others hated me for his actions and supposed anti-muggle stance. Rumours circulated throughout the school, and I was known as nothing more than my father’s son._

_I resented the position I was placed in, so I threw myself into my studies in an attempt to change my reputation. It worked, because by the end of my first year I was no longer known as Percival Dumbledore’s son, but rather as nothing more or less than the most brilliant student to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts. That statement may make me appear as a braggart, but one of my greatest strengths and greatest undoings is that I have always been aware of my truly extraordinary mind._

_I won awards and got countless papers published during my years at Hogwarts, but inside I struggled. Every time I went home I was confronted by my broken sister and struggling mother, and by the gaping hole my father’s absence left on the family. I knew that one day I would be expected to fill that gap-- as the oldest son it was my duty. I resented that duty._

_I resented that I would be expected to marry and carry on the Dumbledore line, that I would be expected to give everything I earned to help my sister and mother. But on the outside I remained strong and basked in the praise I was given._

_It was in this quietly resentful position that I found myself in when I graduated Hogwarts. I was looking forward to taking the then customary trip around the wizarding world after graduation with my friend Elphias-- it would be a carefree year where I could truly stand on my own before once more being bogged down by familial responsibility. Unfortunately, just before we were set to depart, tragedy struck._

_In one of her unpredictable bouts of magic, Ariana killed my mother. So I, a 17 year old boy with ambition and talent beyond anyone I have ever known, was forced to take on the mantle of family leader. I cancelled my trip with Elphias and returned home to Godric’s Hollow, where I planned my mother’s funeral and assumed care of my troubled sister Ariana._

_I felt trapped, and, I am now ashamed to admit, like my brilliance was being unfairly contained. I viewed my siblings as a burden and treated them as such, and I simmered with quiet rage at the unfairness of a world where I was forced to be in Godric’s Hollow instead of receiving lavish praise from all ends of the wizarding world._

_And then Gellert came into my life. Gellert Grindelwald was a young man who was expelled from Durmstrang Institute and sent to live with his aunt in Godric’s Hollow. He was deeply troubled and held questionable views on many things, not the least of which was the role of muggles in our world. And yet, despite all of this, I saw nothing more or less than a young man whose brilliance could only be matched by his beauty._

_For the first time in my life I was acquainted with someone as brilliant as me, someone who could truly intellectually challenge me. In the rush of this discovery, which came on the heels of my mother’s tragic death, I allowed myself to be swept into his ideology._

_That summer with Gellert is the time of my life that I regret the most, for reasons that I will soon make clear. I worked with him diligently and obsessively on plans to create a new world, one in which wizards held all of the control. I helped him pen the slogan “For the Greater Good,” which we used to justify our plans of muggle-domination and other unsavory things._

_I was caught up in the thrill of using my mind and the lure of true power, and in those months I lost sight of my true self and the family I was leaving behind. Care of my sister Ariana fell to Aberforth, and one day he had finally had enough and confronted Gellert and I in our home. Aberforth accused me of ignoring my responsibilities in favor of gallivanting with Gellert, and I fell into a place of anger. Did he not see that what I was doing was for the greater good? That Ariana did not matter when Gellert and I would save the magical world and lead it on a path to greatness? Those were the questions I asked myself, and those are the questions that haunt my dreams to this day._

_Because that confrontation soon led to drawn wands, and those drawn wands soon led to dueling. And somewhere in that fight between Gellert, myself, and Aberforth, Ariana was struck by an errant spell. She died instantly._

_Gellert fled Godric’s Hollow, as he was already in too much trouble to risk being associated with a young girl’s death. He used the work I had helped him with to become the worst Dark Lord in history, with the exception of Lord Voldemort who was to come later. I had to live with the knowledge that the man I loved was using my words to justify his killing and insane power grabs. I had to live with the knowledge that my quest for power led directly to not only my sister’s death, but also the deaths of countless others._

_Eventually I could no longer ignore the outcry and pain, so I faced my past demons and challenged Gellert to a duel. In 1945 I fought with and defeated Gellert, and saw to it that he was locked in a cell inside the prison he created. To the world I was a hero, but to myself I was a failure. For allowing myself to fall in love with him, for allowing myself to fuel his ideology, for allowing myself to ignore the atrocities he was committing because I was too scared to face my past, and most of all for allowing my sister to die._

_It is my greatest fear that I am the one to have killed Ariana. In my own drive for recognition and independence I lost sight of what was truly important-- family. Hardly anybody alive today remembers a time when Albus Dumbledore was anything besides a champion for the downtrodden. They hear my name and picture greatness and brilliance, but they have no idea of what regrets lurk beneath the surface of this great mind. They do not know that I am haunted by the image of my sister’s lifeless eyes and the question of whether it was my spell that did that to her. They do not know that I am haunted by the fear that I could so easily slip back into a state of single minded ambition if I were to be tempted by true power once more._

_I have been offered the position of Minister of Magic many times, but I know that my place is here at Hogwarts. Not only does it allow me to avoid the old temptation of power and acclaim, but it allows me to encounter young minds like you._

_You are one of the brightest young people to ever walk these halls, Hermione, and I know you will do great things. You carry a burden and a secret none of us should have to bear, and if you allow yourself to be overcome by it then you will fall into a dark place there is no way out of._

_I have struggled with secrets and shame for many years longer than you have been alive, and I can tell you that you must find a way to live with and be proud of the person you are. Rely on your friends and family, and never become so blinded by ambition or shame that you push them away._

_Trust yourself and your friends, and if you ever find yourself in need of an ear to listen, I find myself in the possession of two fairly good ones._

Hermione ruminated on those words for hours, and Saturday found her sitting with the Convocation down in their nest. She had a lot more to work through from Albus’s letter, but one thing was clear: family is not something to be overlooked. “Okay guys, there’s something I would like to tell you, but I don’t want you making a big deal out of it. Do you promise to refrain from drastic action?”

Nine faces looked at her in worry. “Umm, I think that depends on what you’re about to tell us. Like, you’re not hurt or anything, right?” Gwendoline was the first to speak up. 

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“Then yeah, I guess we can refrain from action. Right guys?” Everyone nodded in agreement and Hermione took a breath.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” She took another breath. “My birthday was on Thursday. I turned 12.”

“What!?” Brock stood up and started frantically looking around. “But I didn’t get you a gift. Oh my god, we didn’t throw you a party, we totally have to throw you a party!” 

“Please don’t.” Hermione tried to interrupt Brock’s rambling, but his volume control was never the best. “Do you think if I ask an elf they can bake us a cake? What about streamers? Anyone know where we can get some streamers? I’ll ask Prefect Daniel!” Hermione again tried to interrupt Brock and was growing visibly uncomfortable.

“Brock!” Martine shouted loud enough to gain his attention. “Sit your ass back in that chair. We said no drastic action-- I think planning a party is a bit drastic.”

“But--” 

“Ass. Chair. Now.” Martine’s tone brooked no argument and he returned to his chair a bit sheepishly. 

After everyone was silent for a minute and it became clear that Hermione wasn’t going to be the one to break it, Justin asked “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I have a lot of really bad birthday memories. I thought it would just be better if nobody knew.” Her voice got quieter. “If nobody knows then nobody can hurt me.”

Brock looked thoroughly ashamed of his outburst now and he hung his head. Justin continued questioning Hermione. “Then why are you telling us now?”

“Because the professors found out and gave me gifts on Thursday, and it made me confront some things.” Hermione looked around at her friends and tried to smile. “Like the fact that I actually really want people to acknowledge my birthday, and the fact that maybe not all birthdays have to be bad.”

“But no party?” Brock found his voice again. 

“No party.” Hermione voiced her agreement. “I basically had a panic attack just from seeing Severus holding a present, I really don’t think I’m ready for cake and streamers.” She tried for a light hearted tone, but everyone still looked worried at her admission. 

“Well then, birthday girl. As the oldest among us I think it is officially your right to choose our weekend itinerary.” 

Hermione smiled at Suzanne’s getting them back into easier territory and said “I think I have a few ideas.”

The weekend passed with ease, and after Hermione’s admission it was like a small weight was collectively lifted off of their shoulders. Over the course of the next few weeks they each presented her with small trinkets as belated birthday gifts, but they tried to do it gently and obeyed her request for no parties. 

One other effect that came from all of the birthday festivity was that the professors became aware of the Ravenclaw First Years branding themselves as the Convocation. After Hermione explained the term to Severus on her birthday it wormed its way into everyday dialogue. Over the course of the next few months is became common usage amongst the staff. 

After a particularly crazy Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson at the end of September, for example, Minerva walked into the destroyed classroom and asked Quentin “What on Earth happened?” His response? “The Convocation” 

One day in October when Pomona was leaving the staffroom after lunch she was asked by Septima “Where are you off to?” Pomona sighed good naturedly and replied “Double Herbolody with the Convocation. Wish me luck.”

It was a period of several days in November before Madam Pince would even allow the Convocation back into the library after they managed to steal several books out of the restricted section. It wasn’t so much that they tried to sneak off with books, which countless others had tried before, but the fact that they succeeded and she didn’t even know they were missing until Snape returned them days later. “The Convocation took these this weekend. I caught them reading under the table in Potions and thought you might want them back.” Her pride was definitely hurt.

It wasn’t long after the library incident when the Convocation managed to blow up half of the boys’ dorm while practicing some of the spells from the restricted section books. “Convocation!” Daniel the prefect’s voice screamed over the settling dust. 

Other students even picked up on the name, and before long it was common usage among more than just the staff or Ravenclaw House. Most students stopped referring to them as individuals and accepted them for the strong group that they were, and it became known that if you mess with one of them you mess with all of them. 

Though apparently not everyone got the memo, which we saw on a windy afternoon in November when the Ravenclaws and Slytherins were having their weekly flying lesson. 

“Do I have to?” Amos asked Madam Hooch for not the first time that semester. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time that minute.

“Yes, Mr. Bletchley, you have to. It’s simple, just go up, execute a few figure eights, then touch back down.” 

“Ugh, fine.” Madam Hooch watched at Amos shakily kicked off, flew in a small and slow figure eight, then immediately touched back down and launched into a tirade about how sports were useless to his brother. She sighed deeply but ultimately recognized that it was a vast improvement for him and turned to go observe another student. 

After she was far enough away to be out of earshot, one of the Slytherins started loudly talking to his friends. “It’s a shame really, Lord Bletchley having such a sissy for a son.” 

Amos looked down at his feet and Theodore and the rest of the Convocation in ear shot tensed up. One of the other Slytherins took up the thread of conversation. “Well at least he has a spare. Merlin knows Amos is too queer to ever produce an heir.”

“Hey, you got something to say about my brother?” Theodore had whirled around and was stalking over to where the group of Slytherins stood. Madam Hooch saw him move and started to walk over, worried. The Slytherins just laughed to themselves. “Yeah, I do. Hey queer, how does it feel to know that you’re a disgrace to your family’s name?” Theodore looked back and saw Amos turn and run away, and his vision flashed red.

“You do not get to speak to him that way!” Theodore reached into his pocket for his wand, but before he could get to it Martine shot off a hex from a few feet to his right. Garrick then walked up to his other side and grabbed his shoulder in support. 

Just as the Slytherins were about to retaliate, Madam Hooch finally arrived. “Stop it! All of you put away your wands this instant.” 

Once they had all slowly complied, Madam Hooch cast a disappointed gaze over to the Slytherins. “Do you have a problem with gay people, Mr. Selwyn?”

Lifting his chin in mock confidence, Harper Selwyn scoffed. “It’s fine for the common people to be gay, but his father is a Wizengamot lord. It’s a disgrace.”

Theodore shouted “My father is proud of Amos and so am I! It’s pompous elitist asses like you who give purebloods a bad name.” 

“Oh really? I think--”

“Nobody cares what you think, Mr. Nott. Nor you, Mr. Selwyn.” Hooch’s yellow eyes flashed in anger. “Next time, before you start attacking another student on the basis of his sexuality, you might want to make sure you don’t do it in front of a professor who is also gay.” 

Nott and Selwyn lost all of their bravado at the quiet fury in Hooch’s voice. 

“Not so vocal now I see. Mr. Bletchley, go check on your brother. Mr. Nott and Mr. Selwyn, come with me. We’re going to take a trip to see your Head of House” Turning to address the entire class, she loudly called out “Class dismissed. See you all next week.”

Snapping out of his rage, Theodore looked around for Amos. Spotting him sitting on the pitch with the rest of the Convocation, he quickly sprinted over. As he arrived he heard Amos saying “I just hate how he always has to defend me. They’re all right, I’m useless.” 

Everyone voiced disagreement with that statement, but it wasn’t until Theodore spoke that Amos listened. “I would defend you every second of every day without complaint. We’re family, Amy.” Amos wrinkled his nose and said “You know I don’t like being called that.” Theodore laughed openly and corrected himself “Amos, then. You’re my brother and I would fight a million Selwyns and Notts for even looking at you wrong. You are not a burden”

“And we may not share a face like you two, but the rest of us are your family too. I told Hermione once that I would burn the entire school to the ground for her or any of you other losers, and I meant it.” Martine put what everyone else was thinking into words. 

Amos sniffed and tugged on his scarf. “Thanks guys.”

While that event was the most obvious, there were other smaller events throughout those few months that made Hermione realize she wasn’t as alone as she thought she was. She paid more attention to their mood swings and habits and saw that they were all struggling with one thing or another. When Martine nearly panicked because she got less than perfect on an assignment and Gwendoline had to reassure her that it was okay not to be perfect, Hermione felt closer to them. When she heard Luna crying in the middle of the night, or saw Brock looking at a picture of his sister, she felt closer to them. So whenever she woke up screaming from a nightmare, or fell to her knees gasping for breath in irrational panic, or snuck off to the Room of Requirement for her monthly torture session, she tried to remember that. 

When she sat in bed after a bad dream about her mom and she had a knife in her hand and a blade pressed against her leg she tried to remember that. And when she was able to drop the knife and shakily call out for help, and allow herself to be led to the Hospital Wing, she tried to remember that. 

Nobody is perfect, and she didn’t have to be. She just had to try to make it through a day at a time like everybody else.


	23. Christmas Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is making plans for Christmas Break, but with a full moon on Christmas Eve Hermione is left out.

Hermione had settled into somewhat of a groove, so it came as a bit of a surprise to her when Professor Flitwick walked into the Common Room one Saturday afternoon bearing a sign-up sheet for Christmas Break. The Common Room was moderately full of students, and it filled with excited chatter as soon as Filius affixed the parchment to the announcement board. 

“Alright, you all know the drill. If you are going to be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas break, put your name on the left side of the sheet. If you are going to be leaving Hogwarts, put your name on the right side. You have until Friday after dinner to have your name in one of the two columns.”

Filius Flitwick, Ravenclaw Head of House, walked out of the Common Room without another word and left the students to their chatter. Which centered primarily around their respective plans for break. 

“My parents are going to the Alps and they actually invited me along this year. They’ll probably ignore me like they always do, but still, there are plenty of things I can do to occupy myself. I’m actually kind of excited-- our Alps villa has a massive library.” Justin didn’t seem too put out by the prospect of his parents ignoring him, and Hermione could sympathize with that. 

One by one the members of the Convocation said what their plans were over break. 

Garrick was going to be in France visiting his father’s family, which included a whack of cousins who attend Beauxbatons. “They’ve been railing on my dad for a while after he decided I would go to Hogwarts. French superiority and all that.” He seemed to find it funny rather than worrying so everybody took it as a good natured rivalry.

“Daddy and I are going to Australia to interview a wizard who flew to the moon on a Cleansweep 6. He has moon frogs and everything.” “Um… That’s nice, Luna.”

Gwendoline gestured to Martine and herself. “We’ll be staying together at my house.” Martine chimed in with “Which would normally be great, but it means I have to go to the damn Malfoy Yule Ball.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. We’ve been going to that for the past three years.” Theodore said, and Amos made a face of appropriate disgust. “At least we’ll all have each other this year though, I guess.”

Suzanne, a muggle born, needed explanation. “Wait, what is the Malfoy Yule Ball and why is it so bad?”

Gwendoline sighed and raised her hand to stop Martine, who had already opened her mouth to start talking. “It’s not _bad_ , per se. It’s just a lot of pure blood politicking.”

“And face painting and dress wearing.” Martine chimed in.

“And boring black robes and acting like a gentleman.” Amos added.

Gwendoline rolled her eyes and looked at Suzanne. “It’s really not that bad, honestly.” 

Theodore, Amos, and Martine collectively looked at Gwendoline in disbelief, but Gwendoline switched the conversation topic with ease. “Well besides going to the _dreadful_ ball, what are you two twins doing?” 

“Father is going to be tied up in the Wizengamot most of break, unfortunately, so it’s just going to be us and mother at home. I don’t think mother has anything major planned, but who knows?” Amos said. “Yeah, she does have a history of surprising us with gifts and vacations and the like” Theodore added.

He kept talking. “What about you, Suzanne? Any fun plans?”

Suzanne shrugged. “Anna and I haven’t seen each other since the summer so it’ll be good to spend some time with her, but we probably won’t do much more than ride our bikes around town and terrorize Jeffrey. All in good fun, of course.” Anna and Jeffrey were her siblings, and both of them were muggles. Anna is a year younger than Suzanne and Jeffrey is five years older. Messing with him was one of their favorite past times. 

Brock laughed. “Good fun, right.”

They all laughed for a minute and Brock told them what his plans were. They learned that he was staying with his dad this break, as apparently his mom got him last year and their custody agreement states alternating holiday years. “Yeah, my dad’s a muggle so I’ll be staying in muggle London. I hope I can convince him to take me to Diagon Alley though. I need to get presents for the lot of you!” 

Hermione was getting antsier and more upset as the conversation followed the curve of their circle and drew nearer to her. Not only did she not have money to buy them presents, which she hadn’t worried about before Brock mentioned it, but she couldn’t leave Hogwarts. It wasn’t just that she had no family to go to, though that certainly didn’t make her feel good, but that there was a full moon on Christmas Eve. If she left the castle she would be leaving her supply of Wolfsbane and her safe room for transformations. But she couldn’t very well tell them that.

So when the circle reached her she just looked at her hands and mumbled out “I’m staying here.”

Brock looked like he was kicking himself for not taking Hermione’s lack of home into account. “You’re more than welcome to come stay with me and my dad.”

“Yeah, or come to the Alps with me. I doubt my parents would even notice.” Justin chimed in.

Everyone voiced their willingness to host Hermione for the holidays, or even stay at Hogwarts with her if she wanted, but she just kept shaking her head and mumbling no. “You go have fun. I’ll be fine here.”

“Come on Hermione, nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

“Yeah, what kind of friends would we be if we just left you here by yourself?

Hermione started scratching and picking at the back of her hands as she tried to fend off the panic rising in her mind. She wanted to go with them. God, more than anything she wanted to go spend Christmas with one of the Convocation, but she couldn’t. She needed Wolfsbane, and she was going to transform, and she would sooner use a severing charm on her own hand than let them see her as a wolf. What would they think?

“No.”

“Come on Hermione.” 

Her scratching grew harder. “I should stay here.”

“But that’s no way to spend the holidays.”

“Yeah, come with us, I know you want to.”

She was scratching so hard she was starting to draw blood, but they wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t they _listen_ to her? She couldn’t leave Hogwarts.

“Hermione, I know you don’t have a home, but you do have a--”

“Stop!” Hermione yelled, causing heads to turn throughout the Common Room. When she saw everyone staring at her her panic rose even higher and she started scratching along her forearms, unable to stop. “I can’t.” Her voice broke on the last word and the entire Convocation looked at her in shock and apology. 

Nobody said anything, and somehow their silence was worse even than their badgering. Hermione had blood on the back of her hands and red lines going up her arms and finally Gwendoline noticed what she was doing. 

“Hermione, I’m sorry. We’re sorry, okay?”

Hermione was still digging her nails into her skin and had tucked her knees up onto her chair, rocking back and forth slightly. 

“We shouldn’t have been pushing you. If you’re not ready or don’t want to spend the break with one of us that’s completely fine. We respect your wishes.” Gwendoline kept talking, clearly trying for a calm tone but not quite accomplishing it. Her eyes were trained on Hermione’s arms, as now blood was clearly visible near the sleeves of her robe as well as on the backs of her hands.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” Hermione was muttering under her breath and looking everywhere but the people in front of her. Inside of her mind she had gone from envisioning them discovering her secret and kicking her out of Ravenclaw to envisioning her going home with one of them and murdering them and their families on Christmas Eve. She scratched harder, unable to stop her panic. 

Everyone else had finally caught on to why Gwendoline so suddenly changed tactics, and soon they were all worriedly looking at Hermione’s blood-smeared arms and hands.

“You need to go see Madam Pomfrey.”

Hermione was too far gone to hear Garrick’s comment. 

Over the course of the past few months Hermione had her share of incidents, but they never got any easier to witness, and it had been a while since an incident had resulted in blood. 

“We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey.” Garrick, when Hermione didn’t respond, turned to the rest of the group. 

Everyone looked to Brock, since he had now carried her to the Hospital Wing three times, but he had injured his arm in a rather vigorous sparring session with Martine and was currently in a sling. 

Hermione started whimpering, and she continued to scratch unceasingly. 

“Fuck this, I’m going to get Snape.” Martine rose to her feet and ran to the entrance of the Common Room, blowing past a fourth year climbing her way inside. 

Over the course of the past few months Hermione and Severus had continued their advanced lessons and had developed a sort of relationship. They weren’t close in the conventional sense, at least, they hadn’t spent time confiding personal secrets to each other, but each sensed a kindred spirit inside the other. Snape somehow seemed to always be the first one to the Hospital Wing when Hermione was there, even if he was in the middle of a class. And more than once he had been the first on scene to one of her episodes and hadn’t hesitated to scoop her up and go to the Hospital Wing.

Gwendoline kneeled next to Hermione’s chair and tried to gently stop the motion of her hands, but Hermione jerked away and kept scratching. Everyone else felt helpless as they sat there waiting for Martine to come back with Snape, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when she ran back in the entrance not even five minutes later.

“Hermione.” Snape’s voice carried heartbreak and more emotion than any of them had ever heard from him.

“Come on, Hermione, let’s get you to Poppy.” He grabbed her and started out of the door a second later and didn’t even question when the entire Convocation followed behind him. 

“Explain.” One word, one order.

Gwendoline was the first to obey. “We were talking about Christmas plans and Hermione said she was going to stay here. We all started inviting her home with us, and when she said she couldn’t we pressured her. I’m sorry sir, we shouldn’t have pushed her.” 

Severus spared her a glance. “Hermione’s hair trigger is not a fault of your own. If you want someone to blame then blame everyone who has hurt her and made her feel unsafe in new places and wary of offers of friendship, along with all of the other things that plague her mind.”

He tugged her tighter to his chest and picked up the pace, the Convocation scurrying along behind him. When at last the Hospital Wing came into sight he breathed a sigh of relief and quickened his pace even more. “Door,” he ordered.

Justin ran forward and swung it open. 

Severus put Hermione on her usual cot and reflected to himself how saddening and angering it was that she was there enough to have a usual cot. Suzanne ran to alert Madam Pomfrey. 

When Poppy bustled out less than three seconds later it was with her wand ready in her hand and a serious expression. “Explain,” she ordered, exactly like Severus. 

Gwendoline once again gave a recap and Poppy nodded along before sending them back and drawing the curtains tight around her and Hermione. Severus retreated to the many chairs set up on the opposite wall and plopped down into one. 

He had been thinking a lot about his second semester lesson plan for Hermione, and something that had begun as a wild and errant thought was steadily gaining footing in his mind. He had initially dismissed it as too far above her level, after all, he hadn’t started studying it until his fifth year, but he was now thinking that her need was too great not to try. 

Severus wanted to teach Hermione Occlumency.

Occlumency was most widely known as a counter to Legilimency, but those who had mastered it knew that it was really so much more. Occlumency was an agreement, an understanding, between you and your mind. It was the ability to sort memories and choose which ones came forth at any given time, whether you were being attacked by a Legilimens or not. It was the ultimate form of mind self-control. Of course, it was also dangerous and difficult to master. 

Difficult to master because the mind is a complex machine with millions of pathways and memories and surprises to throw at you. Dangerous for several reasons, each with their own specific issues. In the course of practicing advanced Occlumency one has to sort and separate and box up thoughts and feelings and memories, and this process is one that can lead to incredibly painful relivings. 

The other danger was in abusing Occlumency. Because even though it is hard, once mastered, Occlumency can become a sort of drug. Someone with a past of horrors who suddenly finds themselves able to stuff those horrors away and not look at them or be affected by them might be tempted to do that all the time. But the mind, once again, is a complex machine, and it refuses to be controlled for too long. By keeping shields up 24/7 one may live a better life in the short term, but eventually those shields will fall and the resulting breakdown will be worse than any the person has ever experienced. Luckily, though, typically someone only had to go through that once before they learned their lesson. Severus certainly had. 

Severus replayed these cons in his head and wondered again if this was a magic he wanted to expose Hermione to, but then he remembered the good. If practiced diligently, even if not mastered, Occlumency afforded one an understanding and control of their mind. If Hermione could learn to interact with memories without letting them take over, if she could learn to strike a balance, then she would be much more prepared for future incidents like today. 

Of course this level of Occlumency practice isn’t a cure for trauma or mental health issues, Severus knew more than most that those could never be cured, but it was a coping mechanism that was a lot healthier than what Hermione was currently doing. He still had his share of breakdowns and bad days, but he now understood his mind on a level that meant he was able to keep himself from sinking too far under, and he was always able to fight his way back. That was a skill Hermione needed to learn. 

So, sitting just a few meters away from Hermione’s designated hospital cot (a fact that still angered him like no other), Severus made the final decision to start her Occlumency training after break. 

Poppy emerged from the bed a few minutes later and closed the curtain behind her. “Thank you for bringing her in. She’s sleeping now, but she asked me to tell you that she will be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas and desperately needs you not to ask her to leave the castle, or decide to stay here with her.”

“Do you really think she should be here alone though?” Brock’s worried voice spoke for everyone. 

Poppy sighed and rubbed her neck. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Mr. Cull. This is her decision and it’s one she needs to make. But if it makes you feel any better, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Headmaster Dumbledore, myself, and several other members of the staff will be remaining in the castle as well.” 

They exchanged a few more words and the Convocation filed out of the Hospital Wing, returning to their Common Room to wait for Hermione. Severus returned to his office and began work on revising his second semester lesson plan. 

\---

During the following week everyone throughout the school was excitedly chattering about their Christmas Break plans, and though Hermione was quieter and a bit more drawn than usual, she managed a few polite nods and “That sounds fun” type comments. The Convocation rallied around her and managed to deflect the conversation onto one of themselves whenever someone tried asking her about her own plans, and for that she was extremely grateful. 

It wasn’t until Potions on Friday that someone managed to get through their protective blockade. Hermione was walking back from the store room when Selwyn asked her “Hey Granger, what are you doing this Christmas? Going to hang out with the muggles?

She tried to keep walking around him, but Nott stepped in front of her to stop her progress. “Come on Granger, we’re just curious what muggles like you do for Christmas.” No students in the school actually knew what her heritage was, since she certainly wasn’t disclosing anything, but Nott and Selwyn had randomly decided between themselves that she must be a muggle born and deserved to be treated as such. Now, they weren’t nearly as vicious as the Gryffindor girls, instead they just limited themselves to small rude comments here and there. 

“Muggles like you” hit Hermione right where it hurt though. It wasn’t enough that her mother abused her and she had to deal with those memories, or that she was attacked by a werewolf and had to deal with that trauma and prejudice. No, she also had to deal with the reality of being a muggle born. 

But she didn’t want to give these kids any more of her time so she just said “Staying in the castle” and pushed by them. When she sunk into her seat Martine caught her expression and looked back toward the two Slytherin boys with narrowed eyes and gripped her wand tighter. 

The boys apparently didn’t catch it though because they nudged each other and walked the way back to Hermione’s desk. “What, the muggles don’t want you anymore?” Selwyn asked with a small sneer on his face. “Is that why you have to stay here over break?”

“Leave me alone.” Hermione sounded exhausted and desperate and Martine pulled her wand from her pocket and set it on the table. 

“We’re just trying to be friendly, Granger, geez.” Nott reached across her table and moved to pat her shoulder, but a stinging hex hit his hand before it could reach her and he whipped it back in pain. 

“She said leave her alone.” Martine’s tone brooked no argument. 

Selwyn and Nott both pulled out their wands and pointed them at Martine, but a quiet and dangerous voice behind them stopped their movement. “I believe I once said no foolish wand waving in my class, Nott, Selwyn. Did I not?”

“That will be 10 points taken from Slytherin House each. Now get back to work.”

“But what about Oleph? She hexed me first!”

“Ms. Oleph, five points awarded to Ravenclaw House for what I doubt was anything other than an appropriate use of force.” He gestured for Selwyn and Nott to go back to their table and Martine nodded in appreciation. 

“Hermione,” she looked up at him in surprise, “come with me.” 

Severus led her to the store room and closed the door behind him. 

“I am not going to ask you to divulge your thoughts to me or confide in me, so you can stop panicking about that.” Hermione released some of the tension she had unknowingly been holding and looked up at Severus curiously.

“Selwyn and Nott are dunderheaded idiots and quite honestly a disgrace to my noble house. I quite approve of Ms. Oleph’s spell work, but try to pass it along to her that in the future she should try to be more covert.”

Hermione cracked a small smile at what was essentially his blatant approval of attacking Nott and Selwyn. 

“But that’s also not why I need to speak with you. I am in the process of revising our coursework for after break and am going to give you homework for the break itself. It’ll be a few more days until I have the notebook updated, but until then I want you to begin studying Occlumency. The next two months are going to be pure Occlumency, and after that we will resume splitting lessons, this time between Occlumency and combative spells.”

“Occlumency…” Hermione racked her brain. “Isn’t that how to defend your mind from attack?”

“Among other things, yes. Read up on the history, theory, and application. I’ll write a few suggested reference texts and mental exercises in your course notebook.”

“Okay. I’ll read them all over break.” Hermione was genuinely excited at learning a form of magic she had only heard of as obscure and advanced. 

“I have no doubt you will. Now go back out and rejoin the class.” 

Hermione left the stores room in better spirits than she went in it, making sure to pass on Severus’s message to Martine, who flashed her a dangerous and promising smile in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting surgery next week (31 May) so if I don't get the next chapter up by then it might be a little bit. Definitely not more than a week post-surgery though. I don't care how looped out on pain meds I am, I'm sticking to more regular updates from here on.


	24. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve/Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my big outline (which I have done through the end of the story) I somehow forgot to include Christmas itself. I had the lead up and the aftermath, but nothing on gifts, meals, etc. This chapter patches that hole and then I'm back onto my main plot with the next chapter.

Christmas Eve lunch was actually nice, surprising Hermione slightly. She had received a notice that it would go earlier than usual (something she suspected had to do with her impending transformation, but of course couldn’t know for certain) and arrived at the Great Hall two minutes ahead of schedule.

The long house tables had been removed, and in their place sat a single twelve person table piled high with mountains of food. Hermione walked over to the table, which already sat Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Trelawney, and Vector, Madames Hooch and Pince, and three other students. 

She took her seat, feeling warm at the kind smile Albus sent her way, and examined the other members of the table in more detail. She knew of all of the professors, though Trelawney and Vector she only knew in passing as members of the Divination and Arithmancy Departments. One thing that struck Hermione though was Trelawney’s resemblance of a large, glittering beetle. It made her a bit uncomfortable so she shifted her attention to the other students.

Two of the three sat together and Hermione immediately suspected they were siblings. One in Gryffindor and the other in Slytherin, they looked to be around 5th and 3rd years respectively and bore more than a passing resemblance. The other student was a girl in her own house, though several years older. Hermione thought she recalled her name being Margaret or something similar, and she sent her a shy smile in acknowledgement, which the girl quickly but just as shyly returned. 

After no more than two minutes of sitting, and she was seated between Severus and Hooch and across from Minerva, Hermione heard a noise and turned to see Poppy walk into the Great Hall. Once Poppy took her seat at the opposite end of the table from Albus, Albus stood and gestured expansively at everyone. 

“Since there are so few of us remaining in the castle it seemed rather silly to use the House tables, don’t you agree?” Without waiting for a response, he continued. “So I helped the elves with this little set-up and I’m sure it’s going to be a lovely meal. Though,” he put on a sad expression, “I’m afraid we must adjourn before four thirty, as I must commandeer the hall for a task of my own.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if he actually needed the Great Hall or if he was just making excuses for her since the sun set just after four thirty, but she decided not to dwell on it. 

Albus took his seat, said “Dig in!” and the meal commenced.

Hermione had never had a traditional muggle Christmas Eve lunch (television specials were the closest she came), but she had decided within ten minutes that she liked magical ones better. By the time the meal ended she was not only full of good food, but she was laden with hats and toys and assorted trinkets and with the hilarious memory of Albus forcing Severus to pull a Wizard Cracker and don the witch’s hat that came from within. 

When four thirty finally came she was almost sad for it to be over, especially since she knew what happened next.

“Now, I hope you all had a lovely time this Christmas Eve meal. I know I certainly did.” Everyone except Severus, who was glaring at Albus from underneath the wide brim of his witch’s hat, looked like they had indeed had a lovely time.

“As you all know, this meal typically would have taken place tomorrow night, and I confess my reasons for hosting it today were slightly selfish in nature. I have some business that takes me out of Hogwarts tomorrow evening and I couldn’t go off without experiencing what is one of the highlights of my year, every year and without fail.”

“But now we are all fed and watered and laden with gifts, so it is time to depart. I hope you all have a pleasant evening, and I wish you a very happy Christmas indeed.”

Parting words were said and people filtered from the hall, eventually leaving just Hermione and Severus, who took off the witch’s hat as soon as Albus left through the doors and cast it a look of disgust. Hermione laughed but quickly suppressed it when Severus turned his scathing look to her.

She tried to look appropriately offended on his behalf and after a moment the tension passed, though he did give the hat one final glare before turning to Hermione. “I have finished updating the book with your post-break coursework. What I had before is now in an optional additional curriculum section if you find yourself in need of some self-study, but if not it will simply become summer curriculum. Can’t have you falling behind now, can we?”

Hermione puffed up in pride and Severus smiled inwardly. “Don’t worry, I’ll learn it.”

“I have no doubt you will, Hermione, no doubt at all.”

With that he swept from the hall and Hermione took off toward the Room of Requirement. She probably had time to go put her gifts and trinkets in her room, but the trek was long and she also thought it might be nice to have something associated with a positive memory there for her when she woke up on Christmas morning.

When she got to the room she quickly entered and made herself at home, deciding to read one of the books on Occlumency so thoughtfully provided by the room. She read for about half an hour before she started to feel the tell-tale signs of her impending transformation, and then she quickly put the book and her clothing in a safe corner of the room. 

The change was nowhere near as excruciating as her first full moon, but it still wasn’t an easy or comfortable experience, and she was curled up panting on the floor at the end of it. Whining, she walked a slow lap around the room to work out some of the resonant bone and joint pain, and then she plopped herself on the bed and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

\---

Waking up on Christmas morning was just like any other morning, and that in itself was slightly disappointing to Hermione. She didn’t know what she was expecting exactly, but silently getting dressed, grabbing her things, and starting the long and now painful walk to her Common Room wasn’t it.

She ached as she walked through the castle and before she was even halfway to the Ravenclaw Common Room she knew it was going to be one of those days. She never felt 100% before or after a transformation, but it had been differing levels of bad every time. Sometimes she felt terrible before a transformation but moderately good after, sometimes it was dreadful both before and after, and other times she managed to make it through without it being too awful. She winced climbing a staircase and sighed in resignation. This was shaping up to be a not terrible before but dreadful after kind of month. 

Reaching the Common Room was an amazing feeling of relief and Hermione wanted nothing more than to collapse into her waiting bed. She wasn’t sure if she could sleep due to the pain, but she was more than done with being on her feet. 

Hermione climbed the final stairs and entered her empty dormitory, walking across the room to her bed. She walked without thinking, in a kind of tired and pained stupor, and fell into her bed without thought. She kicked off her shoes and pushed them off the foot of her bed, not registering until a full three seconds later that she never heard them hit the floor. 

Sitting up with a groan, Hermione blinked in shock at how she could have missed something as massive as the pile of presents at the foot of her bed. Presents. For her. 

“I have presents.” She whispered to herself in a feared tone, as though afraid that voicing it would make them disappear. Tentatively she reached out and touched one, then pulled her back in reverence and shock. “I have presents.” She said it louder this time, and then she picked up the present she had just touched and set it in her lap. 

“I have presents!” She said it strongly that time, and then she excitedly tore off the packaging from a gift that said “From, Albus” on it. Inside was a book (of course) called “Greatest Minds of the Wizarding World.” 

Hermione flipped it over and read the back. 

_Read all about the trials and tribulations of some of the greatest minds in the history of the magical world, from Helga Hufflepuff to Newton “Newt” Scamander. Through excerpts from personal journals, letters, and other first-hand accounts you will get a never before seen look into these great minds. You may find some things that shock you._

Opening the front cover, Hermione pulled out a small card from Albus. It said:

_I have been asked to add my own name and story to be included in volume two of this lovely little book, and it is something I am seriously considering. Either way, you will find this enjoyable and informative I am sure. Happy Christmas._

Setting it aside to read later, Hermione turned back to her pile of presents. Presents! She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. 

She spent the next twenty minutes opening all of her presents, and several times she was brought close to tears. Severus gifted her a forearm wand holster personalized with an “H,” and of course she immediately tried it on for size. It had a mechanism that slid your wand into your hand without having to draw it and Hermione thought it both ingenious and touching. Since she had never seen one of these for sale, or even heard of it for that matter, she suspected that it was custom made. It also showed her that he was serious about continuing her combat education, and doing it thoroughly and well. 

Minerva got her another advanced potions kit, correctly suspecting that she was running low on her stores. Minerva’s gift also contained something that Hermione knew she would have to think about at a later time in more detail. It was a letter, brief and to the point.

_Hermione,_

_I do not wish to burden you with such a decision, especially not on what is meant to be so joyous an occasion, but I have several things to discuss with you regarding your mother. If you could come to see me in my office at 5 o’clock this evening please do so. Severus will be there as well. I promise that it is not an ambush and we will not expect you to relive anything or make any big decisions today, there are merely options for your future that you should be made aware of._

_With love,  
Minerva_

Hermione was understandably nervous about the meeting later, but something else from the letter stuck out and made her feel better. Two things, actually. The first was that Severus was going to be present at the meeting. She hadn’t told him a lot about her life before Hogwarts, but somehow she just knew he understood, and that he was going to help her as best he could. 

The second was that Minerva had signed the letter “With love.” Minerva loved her, and that made her happy enough that she was able to shelve the mother worry for later.

Poppy also got her some books, including muggle ones, and Hermione appreciated the variety. The rest of the mountain of presents came from the Convocation and a few other members of Ravenclaw House. 

She received everything from chocolate frogs to a new quill to a handcrafted scrapbook full of pictures of her and the Convocation. She loved every single gift and had the conscious thought that maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad after all. 

\---

Hermione was still in a lot of pain and feeling ill, so she spent the day in bed until it was time for her to go meet Minerva and Severus for the mysterious meeting about her mother. She knocked on Minerva’s door at one minute to five, and it immediately swung open to reveal three chairs sitting in a small circle in the middle of her floor. Hermione was glad that nobody was going to be sitting behind the desk. That would have given it an unpleasant and official air.

Severus was already sitting in one of the chairs and he gave Hermione what passed as a smile for him as she took one of the other seats. Minerva joined them after a moment.

“I propose we get right down to business.” Severus spoke as Minerva was opening her mouth, probably cutting off what he suspected was going to be pleasant filler conversation. “We can all catch up after.”

Hermione nodded gratefully and Minerva said “Very well.”

“Hermione, we have two main things we need to discuss with regard to your mother. The first is what punishment she will face, and the second Severus asked to bring up himself.” 

Hermione nodded along, listening.

“Your mother is currently living a tolerable but altogether rather unhappy existence. She has no memory of anything magical, as per the Ministry’s laws. She can remain in this state for as long as we wish her to, but ultimately the decision will fall to you what her long term punishment will be. Your input will not be the final decision, given the law and your age, but the Ministry will take your recommendation into the highest consideration.”

“You can wait years to make this decision if you wish, so please don’t think there is any rush. It will eventually have to be made though, and I don’t want you to be blindsided or unaware of your options when decision day arrives. Okay?”

It was a lot to take in, and Hermione nodded silently. 

“Okay. We can discuss your options in more detail somewhere down the line. Severus, what you wanted to discuss?”

Severus nodded and turned to look Hermione in the eyes. “You bear your mother’s name, and that is not an easy thing for you to have to carry with you everywhere. It is a burden others do not understand, cannot understand, and it is also a burden you do not have to bear should you not want to.”

“Your current legal status is ward of Hogwarts, and as such Albus can act as your guardian in legal proceedings. I spoke to him already and he is more than willing to put through the paperwork for you to legally change your name.”

Hermione was shocked. Change her name? She hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility.

“This is a large decision and of course you may take as much time as you need to think about whether this is a path you want to take and what your new name would be, but I wanted to let you know that it is an option. Just say the word and Albus will have the paperwork submitted within the day and the change will be final within three days.”

Hermione was still shocked, but she managed to mutter a small “Thank you,” and Severus nodded in understanding. 

“Well, now that business is out of the way and we’ve given you more than enough to think about, let’s shift gears. How has your Christmas been so far, dear?” Minerva struck a light tone and Hermione eventually managed to lose herself in the pleasant conversation, but after a while she knew she needed to retire to her room. She was still in discomfort and pain and the longer she sat in the same position the more it bothered her. 

So she said her goodbyes and made her way back toward Ravenclaw spaces, her head swimming with all of her possible future moves.


End file.
